


the darkness got a hold on me

by jephanie



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Glacial Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Implied bi Deputy, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Injury Recovery, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Will one of the previous two tags happen? Who knows ;), clandestine walkie meetings, codependent Rook and Jacob, so many VHS tapes, sweatshirt theft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:35:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jephanie/pseuds/jephanie
Summary: John Seed has pushed Rook to her limits. Now she's falling and the ones there to catch her are an old friend or John's brother, but it all depends on how she lands.Wherein John Seed is a little bitch, Rook is has a crowbar and is ready to use it, Hudson just wants to go apeshit, and all of Jacobs plans are ruined.Also, Sharky is there sometimes, and he's just trying his best.Contains angst, slow burns, and a shitton of pining.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge & Joey Hudson, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joey Hudson, Jacob Seed & Original Female Character(s), Sharky Boshaw & Female Deputy | Judge
Comments: 53
Kudos: 27





	1. took a little journey to the unknown

Dep was popular. It was why they always lost her.

It was Sharky, Nick, and Boomer. Sometimes Hurk. Dep and the Boys. She was never the loudest, surrounded by what Hurk preferred to call them- “inconventional geniuses”. Mary May always told them that they got the Dep into trouble, lead her into more tits-up ideas than she would get into on her own. But they knew that she was always in the middle of it, a muttered adjustment to _just_ keep them from getting killed, lips curled into a smirk.

She reminded Sharky of the quiet kid in class. There was always one smarter than the others, quietly biding their time until they could leave the trailer park and go to college. That was something Sharky never touched, instead the one yelling out the wrong answer on purpose, either daring the other dumbasses to eat weird shit at lunch or doing it himself. That was how they travelled, Nick and Sharky making dumb jokes over the radio while Dep crept ahead of them with Boomer. But occasionally she’d mutter something under her breath, something so well timed and smarter than anything Sharky could ever come up with, and Nick would nearly crash his plane from laughing.

She was quiet but seemed to hate the quiet herself. Sharky noticed the way that her eyes shot to the sky whenever something passed overhead when Nick was at home with Kim, the way her footsteps were extra soft when Boomer went too far ahead, the way she tapped her foot anxiously and held her breath when she was on watch and everyone was asleep. So Sharky kept up the chatter to fill the silence when they were alone, whether in earshot or over radio. Always kept her updated on where he was, and then sometimes her shoulders wouldn’t be so tense. He wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t dumb.

It was probably because of that prick John Seed. Well, it was definitely because of _all_ those assholes. The Dep used to have a family, all the other deputies (Sharky was slightly anxious for when they got all those deputies back, because what were they supposed to call the other ones? His vote was on Number Two for at least one of them), but now she was alone. And now she held him and Nick and Boomer close, and she was far too scared to let them go. She had run into fire multiple times to pick him or Boomer up when they fell and had hurt herself that way often. Sharky could see it, that she was setting herself up to make the same mistake and lose people again. But the only way she seemed to fix it was to build up her family again, an ever-tumbling tower. Then again, he didn’t know what else would help. She was smart, but she could be dumb.

* * *

She didn’t think of herself as Dep. There were a lot of other deputies. She just happened to be the one that got out. She was the rookie. She was Rook. The baby of the team, the greenie. _She_ should’ve been the one held by John, or Jacob, or Jinglehiemer Schmidt or whatever the fuck. Rook knew that Hudson would have taken this entire county by storm, kicked Joseph in the balls, and they would have been done with it.

Instead she had found herself alone, half drowned, listening to John Seed tell her about all the fun times Hudson was having.

John Seed was probably mocking her for running away from Holland Valley, wherever he was. And that was precisely what she had done. She ran away from her “baptism”, the shudder that went through her spine as Joseph held her face in his hands. She ran from the weightlessness of being midair while bodies and car seats spun around her, from the symphony that was the thundering of mortars on a bridge, the recoil that bruised her palms and shoulders. The thundering of a chopper as she peered over the edge, seeing the bodies circling the place where they had picked her up, and the sickening sweet… _satisfaction_ that had filled her. The satisfaction of a job well done.

Rook felt something warm at her elbow, and Boomer nudged himself under the crook of her arm. She scratched under his collar absentmindedly, and kept rummaging through the dead Peggy’s pockets. The Cook, as Jess called him. Boomer sniffed at the air. Like Jess said, the smell of cooking human flesh was something that she wasn’t going to forget any time soon.

“Not food, buddy,” Rook muttered, pocketing a stick of dynamite. Not the smartest thing for a dude with a flamethrower to be carrying.

“I was thinkin’ more like Takis.” Sharky stood above her with his nose wrinkled. “I hope you’re washin’ your hands after that.” He squinted down at the body of the Cook. “Thought this was gonna be like one of them video games, where like, we have a big wild battle and Jess has a big emotional confrontation, ya know? Didn’t think you’d just-“ he mimed aiming a rifle. “BLAM it out of nowhere.”

Rook shrugged, filing through the dead man’s wallet. It had been a quick battle. Rook had taken out the cook from their vantage point, let his fuel pack ignite on his back. The rest of the Peggies weren’t difficult, especially with Sharky and Jess at her side. “Figured it was a guy with fire, didn’t want him to steal your thunder.”

“Aw come on, Dep This guy has no _flair._ Didn’t even have some kick ass tunes playin-“ He turned to Jess, who was similarly scavenging. “Hey Katjess, what kinda music you listen to?”

Rook wondered if Jess was mad that she’d taken the Cook out so quickly. Maybe it was wrong of her to just flick him away like an ant on the kitchen counter. _Maybe give her John Seed to make it even,_ she thought, and her stomach twisted. She didn’t know why. Her fist clenched, bringing with it a vague- not a memory, barely a wish- of feeling John Seed’s throat under her fingers, and her chest grew tight. _You don’t_ want _that,_ Rook told herself, squeezing her eyes shut. _No normal person would want that._ There was some side effect to being in Hope County, something that took every horrible things she’d done, and made it seem okay. Made it _feel_ okay. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

As always, Sharky’s incessant voice was there to drag her away from whatever the hell was going on in her head. “- definitely more of an ABBA person, what do you think, Dep-“

A buzz of static fizzed from her radio at her hip. “ _There is someone out there pretending to be a soldier.”_

The cadence of the voice was so familiar that Rook froze, could almost feel the water of the Henbane flooding her nose and throat, fighting to get to her lungs. Boomer whined next to her. But it wasn’t the same voice. John Seed’s was thick, dripping with smugness, the sense that he knew something that you didn’t and was dangling it in front of you. This one was calm, gun steel, even.

“- _I want this coward to know they have my attention. My hunters are coming for you. There’s nowhere you can run.”_

A hand was dragging her to her feet, dragging her out of her stupor, dragging her to cover. Jess had her crouched behind a stack of crates, her eyes flitting wildly across the cliff edges, searching. From what Rook knew about the Cook, she hoped that there wasn’t anything flammable in them.

“We need to- _fuck-_ “ Jess cursed. (“We need to _what_?” from Sharky.) “Dep, you haven’t faced these guys yet, they’re- _shit_ , Dep, we should run-“

Sharky peeked out from their position, weapon up. “Run? Didn’t he just say we can’t do that? If these guys are anything like the kitchen dudes or whatever-”

“They’re _not-“_

Rook looked at Jess. Her default expression up until then had been anger. Jess had embraced her rage, built herself up around it, became a _force_ of nature. Now her eyes were wide with fear, desperation, and she gripped her bow tightly with sharp knuckles. The death of the Cook had switched something off in Jess, and even though Rook had only known her for a day, she seemed drained of _something_. Rook wondered if it was somehow her fault. She stolen that kill- the Cook, who had terrorized her and her community- from her. Rook had replaced Jess’s anger with- what? Rook’s hands moved without thought, reloading. The act of replacing bullets in a gun was becoming a comfort of sorts. Another thing that shouldn’t be okay, but was in Hope County. “How many?”

Jess spoke through clenched teeth, scanning the treeline. There wasn’t anywhere for them to run. The Cook made this stupid camp near a dropoff, facing the mountains. The path leading out was open, with no cover. “We wouldn’t know until we see them. And we won’t.”

“They’re invisible? That’s pretty cool.” Sharky grinned back at Rook reassuringly. Then his face dropped as he looked past her, and he swung his weapon around, firing. Rook hit the ground as Jess shoved her out of the way, an arrow protruding from the crate where she had been.

Rook rolled, hearing Boomer barking. More crates were nearby, so she ducked behind them and raised her rifle, snapping to aim at one of the hunter’s shoulders. He jerked sideways as she hit, his jacket ripping open to reveal the edge of a dark vest underneath. He stood his ground, drawing another arrow back. _Shit-_ a shot like that probably would have dropped any other basic Peggie. Jess shouted something behind her, but gunfire from Sharky peppered the air, masking her words. Rook adjusted her aim for the hunter’s head, seeing his eyes glint back at her through his ski mask-

The arrow hit her in the thigh. She didn’t know where it came from. The pain didn’t hit at first, not until her hands found the shaft and her mind registered the _thing_ that was in her _leg that shouldn’t be there_. By that time the familiar fingers of Bliss were caressing her mind, catching her and laying her down to rest. She did not want to go. Rook grabbed the shaft and tried to pull the dosed arrow _out_. Far away, she heard Sharky yelling for her and Jess yelling at _him_ , and she wondered if this was it was like for Hudson. She didn’t feel scared, though. Her fingers slipped, and her arms fell limply, hitting the dirt. Rook tried to yell out to Sharky, but her voice wouldn’t work and she didn’t know what to say anyway- its okay? Let her go? Something was happening to her vision, and it made the boots that appeared in front of her seem very far away.

The Bliss had her now, and shoved her under.

* * *

The Deputy was popular, and Jacob didn’t understand why.

His family was obsessed with this five foot five, average little deputy. John, because she’d defied him so openly, blowing up silos, taking her baptism with silence and resentment, flying to freedom. Faith, as she had with everyone, saw the _good_ in her, which Jacob never really understood. And Joseph, their Father, because now she was some kind of narrative foil to his grand plan or some shit. Jacob looked her up. She had no experience other than her law enforcement training. Only child, no family left. There was nothing special about her. Other than her incessant habit of surviving.

He had to admit that this Deputy had something that Peaches- _Pratt_ didn’t. She met his eyes and listened as he explained his goals to her during her first night at the Grandview. An feeling of certain acceptance that she had no power, which he respected. As if she knew fighting against him was pointless. Peaches had screamed and struggled at first, and look where that got him. Jacob would have culled him if he had the choice, but Joseph wanted him alive for the sole purpose of dangling him in the nose of the Deputy. Which seemed to be doing something, at the least- there was a flare of emotion- rage? Regret?- as the Deputy had woken up in her chair to see him. But only for a second. Then she steeled herself, waiting for what was to come.

Her trials were what finally made her interesting.

For a brief moment, he expected her to fail outright. When she began her first run with the two Whitetails and the pistol, she didn’t pick it up at first. Hesitance was usually what caused people to be culled. It would have been a disappointment to Joseph, sure, but it would have been for the best. But when one of the whitetails’ bullet grazed her cheek, leaving a scarlet line, she grabbed the pistol without pause and left the two bodies behind her.

Jacob had leaned forward in his chair. Perhaps Faith was wrong. The way he saw it, anyone with that inherent _good_ could never make it past that first room, would never be the first to shoot. Deputy didn’t shoot first that initial run, sure- but the others never had a chance to stand from their chairs in the attempts after.

The Deputy had a raw talent for destruction. Jacob wondered if she’d been holding back in Hope County so far. There was raw talent there- her basic law enforcement training had laid at least some kind of foundation, but she had definitely learned a thing or two since the seal had been broken. And his trials were making her even better. Still unrefined, but he didn’t have the type of training he had. But there was less wasted movement and no wasted time as she moved through the maze he had built. Most importantly, no hesitation. He even found himself smiling when she climbed over a barrier and, instead of shooting, snapped a whitetails neck with her bare hands. He wondered where she learned that.

The Deputy was popular, and he was beginning to understand why. It became clear that only she could do what he needed. The music box, the song it contained, was fitting. Only her.

Her trials were not without failure. Most of the people in his maze, while serving mainly as target practice, _were_ in the middle of their own trials to become part of his Chosen, and they had strength themselves. Each one that managed to hit her and survive was moved forward in his process. Jacob pulled one bullet from the Deputy himself, and left another, mostly harmless one, for the Whitetails to find later. Each time he reached for a needle and thread he stopped, reminded himself that they needed to think she survived by chance, that there was nothing special about her to him. So he simply staunched the bleeding best he could, wrapped her wounds in bandages that he would remove later. Chased off infection just enough. Usually she didn’t say a word to him, only stared disinterestedly from his carefully constructed stupor. _Only you._ Once she came to with a jolt and gasp of air, having had broken out of his little spell and grabbed his arm above the elbow. He was cleaning a Judge bite at her side, shallow enough that it wouldn’t cause any lasting damage, but his Judges’ teeth weren’t exactly clean. Jacob froze, simply to see what she would do, feeling her fingers tighten, her chest rising and falling rapidly under his hands.

Her eyes, wide like a cornered animal, drifted to the antiseptic bottle, the blood seeping from her wound. Again he saw that basic understanding, that acceptance that there was nothing she could do, that she was in his hands. The Deputy clenched her jaw, laid back down, and didn’t move. But she still gripped his arm with white knuckles. He finished up. She stayed almost perfectly still, eyes shut tight and entire body tensed to keep from flinching. She only let go when he closed the bottle with a click, her hand falling limply to her side.

He let her sleep before he brought out the music box again.


	2. i've come back changed, i can feel it in my bones

Rook woke up smelling blood. It was everywhere and everything. It trailed in dried, rust colored streaks from the eyes, nose, and mouth of the man that laid in front of her. He did not blink. He wouldn’t again, neither would the rest of the people in the room. She felt a whimper rising in her throat and swallowed it away. She had seen that man before, and the vague memory brought with it the sensation of cool metal in her hands, a ringing in her ears. There was music playing in the background, smooth vocals echoing. The man was dead, and it was because he was weak. She laid on the ground for some time, surrounded by the bodies. The music assured her that this was how it should be. Of all of them, only she was the one that was strong enough to be alive.

A question wormed its way into her mind, a thought that should have been culled. _Then why did they leave me?_ Jacob’s voice was the one that answered, steadily reassuring her. _Only you._

Others came into the room eventually. Picked her up, dropped her. They turned off the music, and everything came crashing down, and everything was washed away.

* * *

At first, the music wouldn’t get out of her head. They had turned it off when they had found her, but it didn’t fade. She didn’t know the name of the song, didn’t know the words. It was underneath everything, and it was pulling her in a direction she didn’t understand and didn’t have control over. A strange sort of feeling accompanied it- the desire to destroy, to wreck and ruin, and it didn’t feel wrong. Eventually different music- the Bee Gees for a moment, followed by an argument about genre- was forced into her ears and it covered it up. Mostly. She wasn’t being pulled away anymore, but it revealed what had been hidden from her, which was exhaustion and pain. She was tired. So tired. So she slept.

She came to a couple times, but the world around her was muddled. Something about the new music that was playing seemed to be dragging things into focus, but she couldn’t take hold of them. People in green fatigues stared at her, gave her water. Some people- a woman she didn’t know, and a man in a familiar sweatshirt- argued above her. Their voices sounded like the were underwater, and the noise, and the absence of the music she had heard before in that blood covered room, made her head hurt. So she laid back down and slept.

Sharky’s snoring finally woke her up. The sense of familiarity drew her out of red-tinted dreams of wolves and gunfire. She was on a worn leather couch, the kind that just got softer with use. Whole body sore, with a mouth like sandpaper. Sharky was slumped in a lawn chair, arms crossed, hat pulled down over his face. Rook laid there, listening. His snoring had never bothered her. When she was up for watch, it reminded her he was still there. When she tried to sleep at the same time as him, it lulled her. Eventually another man walked into the room, noticing that Rook’s eyes were open. He was familiar somehow, with wild black hair and an equally wild beard, but she was certain they never met. A strange sensation filled her suddenly- sourceless adrenaline creeping into her veins, the taste of copper on her tongue. The man narrowed his eyes at her and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted with a snort as Sharky woke up. And immediately tackled her when he saw her eyes open, with no notice to the other man in the room.

“ _DEP HOLY SHIT-“_ He got off of her and pulled her up into a sitting position, which her body immediately protested. There was something wrong with her side, her shoulder, her leg. “You would _not_ believe how long we’ve been looking for you-“ Behind him, the wild haired man nodded, acknowledging the reunion, and left the room. Rook watched him leave and put a hand to her lips, expecting it to come away wet with blood. “- half the country assumed you got dead, but not your boys, me and Nick have been looking all over the place. He was like, eyes in the sky and I was his man on the ground- anyway. Then someone got news that you were at the Grandview and we stormed the place, you should’ve seen the shitshow, dude-“ He was taking a mile a minute, and it was the best thing ( _only you)_ that Rook had ever heard. “-Holy shit Dep, you look like _shit_ though, we’ve gotta get you some new clothes-“

Rook looked down. Someone had washed her clothes, at least, and put them back on her. But the holes, tears, and bloodstains were unmistakable. Her hand went to her side, where her jacket was shredded, feeling a bump of bandages and gauze. And a vague memory of calloused, steady hands.

“- I mean, if you’re looking for the Bruce Willis at the end of die hard look, you have definitely achieved it, so-“

“What happened?” Rook croaked.

Sharky passed her a canteen and frowned. “Remember the Cook? Jacob’s hunters nabbed you right after that. Had me and Katjess pinned down for a while, but once they got you out of there they cleared out pretty quick. I- we didn’t have no ATV or truck or nothin’, and I couldn’t follow-“ Sharky cleared his throat and grinned at her. “Well, it turned out hunky dory, right? We got you back and well, look at ya, you’re mostly fine. Stuck a band aid on the worst bits. Aint nothin’ a band aid can’t fix. Got some new scars, but you look super badass, right?”

She remembered pulling the trigger with the Cook’s skull in her sights and a pain in her thigh. And Bliss. After that, everything was watercolor. “How long have I been out?”

“Depends.” Sharky shrugged. He was trying to make it sound like no big deal, she could tell. “Here, a week. There, about… uh… three.”

“Weeks?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to say something, but fumbled. “Its- look, I’m sorry, buddy.” For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed subdued.

“You found me in the end, right?”

Sharky smiled weakly and chuckled. “Ain’t never letting Dep and the Boys die.”

Rook sat back and closed her eyes. Now that she was fully awake, she was slowly becoming aware of the aching of healing wounds. Her thigh, where the arrow had got her. Plus her side, arm, ribs, and shoulder.

“Want me to grab you some new clothes? Don’t think they’ll as cool as what you had, but we can always raid some closets later.” Rook nodded, and Sharky led her to a narrow bathroom while he went to grab some new clothes.

She was happy that Sharky was the one there. He seemed to understand her, in a way she didn’t expect. Didn’t ask her how she was feeling, what she was thinking. He seemed to know that she needed him, that he was her distraction from everything. That as long as he was telling her about his first kiss, or his aunt that he had a crush on, that her mind wouldn’t wander off somewhere else.

Her reflection in the mirror looked like shit. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and green-tinged bruising peeked up from under her collar. A new scar that she didn’t remember getting trailed a straight line from her now-gaunt cheekbone to where it carved a path through the edge of her ear. There had been a time when Rook had entertained the idea of getting away from everything when this was all done and going back to life as it had been. The fact that there was a blatant physical reminder caused a lump in her throat that she had hoped she was beyond feeling anymore. Sharky, as always, was a blissful distraction, slipping a pile of clothing through the door. Now that she saw her reflection, saw how others saw her, she didn’t think “Bruce Willis at the end of Die Hard” was the best approximation. Anything she had been wearing that wasn’t dark colored was now dyed a shade of rust. The straight-lined and oversized black jacket she’d “borrowed” from the preacher was shredded, as were the combat boots and pants Grace had given her. The t shirt she was wearing wasn’t the one she’d been wearing when the hunters got her, already a replacement for what probably turned into a sad excuse for clothing. Still, replacing the things she’d accumulated stung just as much as burning her deputy shirt her first night in Hope County. It was a stupid thing to be upset about at this point. Rook splashed water on her face, and exited the bathroom.

The wild haired man was waiting for her. The taste of blood was back, as was that weird churning in her stomach, and she swallowed hard.

“Got a lot to talk about, Deputy,” he said. “Come on, I’ll fill you in.”

* * *

The Deputy reappeared in Hope County, and left a trail of fire in her wake. Of course, the fire was concentrated in Holland Valley, and John was blaming Jacob. She blew up two of his convoys, took out two more outposts without even being spotted. Not to mention her team up with Nick Rye, which had lead to smoking craters where silos once stood.

In other words, Jacob had trained her well.

John was furious, of course. Kept yelling at Jacob through the radios, that it was his fault that she was sinning so much; he didn’t respond to the outbursts, which of course riled him even more. John never responded well to silence. Jacob found himself smirking at the thought of the Deputy simply glaring at John with those dark, resenting eyes as he preached at her. It probably drove him crazy.

Jacob kept tabs on her through his wildlife cameras. It was about two weeks until she had finally reappeared, coming up from the Whitetail’s hideout, wherever it was. It seemed that she’d healed well, and that pyromaniac she’d picked up in Faith’s region seemed to be keeping an eye on her. There was a pang of disappointment when they left the mountains and went out of range of his cameras, but eventually he was able to keep up through John’s screaming on the radio, so that was fine. He just wished he could see his handiwork.

 _I see you are interested with our Wayward Soul as well,_ Joseph had remarked. It was their family’s habit at this point, but it was difficult not to be.

* * *

Sharky wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t dumb. He could see that the Deputy was different.

The first hint was the fleeting look of fear that crossed her face when she heard Boomer howling for her from outside the Wolf Den. It was gone when Boomer jumped up to lick her face and she held him tight, her face buried in his fur, but it was there. Sharky had seen the Judges, had seen the bite marks in Dep’s side when he helped her change bandages. He saw, but he didn’t say anything. Funnily enough, Boomer seemed to bark less after that, never howled again. As if he could tell. He pressed up against Dep whenever she went quiet, waited for her hand to rest on him before he nuzzled under her arm like he used to. It took a couple weeks, but soon she was pressing her face into Boomer’s fur as always, letting him cuddle into her sleeping bags on cold nights again.

The second was the way she fought. Nick had told her once that she was a beast on the ground. That was before she was caught by Jacob. Now, she was a demon. It was like she was replaced by the goddamn Terminator. Sharky was sure glad she was on his side. It seemed to surprise her at first, as if the movements she did were unfamiliar to her. It was hard to pretend not to notice, so Sharky did. He clapped her on the back, telling her that she was Rambo, or Jason Bourne, or Jason Statham, that she was finally getting the hang of this shit. That eventually, she would catch up to his talent. She would laugh back. It was hollow, but she would try.

The third probably counted as part of the second one, but there was also the time she snapped a man’s neck with her hands.

“ _Holy shit!”_ Sharky scrambled over to her after he took out the other Peggie. She was already rifling through his wallet. A habit that made him squirm, because everyone knew that the next thing coming to Hope County was definitely a zombie apocalypse. “That was- holy fuck-“

 _“Everything alright? Can’t see shit from up here.”_ Nick’s voice buzzed in from comms.

“Dep just went all John Wick on this Peggie!”

_“Oh hell yeah!”_

“Can you teach me that? You know I’ve always loved Keanu Reeves, even though that’s not my groove. Unless Keanu approached me first, I guess.”

Dep smirked. “I can show you using this dead body if you wanna touch it.”

“Aw Dep, that’s how you get zombie disease.” Without breaking eye contact, Dep wiped her hands on her- really, Sharky’s sweatshirt. “Dep, I wanted that back some day and now I’m gonna have to burn it. Where’d you learn it anyway?” Dep cocked her head. “The snappy snap.”

“I…” She frowned. Puzzled, she asked softly, “I haven’t done that before?”

Sharky fumbled. She was going to that far away place in her head. “Shit dude, how many action movies you watch to have that figured out? Because I feel I should watch them. For like, education purposes. Shit, maybe we should all be watching them, take a few notes or some shit.” He was starting to draw her out of whatever depths she’d found herself in. “You ever see that one with Nick Cage in it where he’s at like, Alcatraz or whatever? I’m pretty sure it’s not National Treasure, but also there’s that Sean Connery guy-“

“The Rock?” she finished.

Sharky grinned. “I think I have it on VHS-“

“Was that still a thing when that movie came out?” Jess stepped out from the shadows, tossing a spare grenade to Rook. “Know you like these.”

“Can you believe that Jess doesn’t know what VHS tapes are?” Sharky said into his radio. (“I didn’t say that” from Jess.)

Hurk’s voice came over radio. “ _Oh shit- Jess, can you vote?”_

“Holy fuck,” Jess muttered.

So it became movie night at Sharky’s.

* * *

Rook didn’t know _The Rock_ was available on VHS. But Sharky had it, so that was what they watched. Her, Sharky, Jess, and Boomer, with Nick getting a quiet play-by-play over a radio passed between all of them. It began with an almost stoic Sharky-Rook-Jess sandwich. Rook had been tense, her knees drawn up to her chin, trying not to touch anyone. But two hours of Nicolas Cage yelling about chemical weapons and three beers (plus two shots in Nick’s honor, since he was home with Kim) had turned it into a slouch, the anxiety that came with touching someone fading as the night went on. Rook’s head eventually found Sharky’s shoulder, Jess’s legs draped over her own. It was something that maybe would’ve happened before everything, and somehow it was happening now, in Hope County. It almost felt normal.

Sharky’s sweatshirt smelled vaguely of gasoline, just like everything he owned. Just like the sweatshirt he’d let her borrow. He’d wrapped his arm around her subconsciously, platonically, pulling her close. She listened to him snoring. A deep rumbling in his chest that almost travelled through her ear to her own. Something about the snoring kept her afloat, and she felt safe for the first time in a long time. In comparison, Jess didn’t snore, just breathed softly, arms crossed defensively even as she slept. With her hood down, in this lighting, she almost looked like Hudson. Just a little bit. Maybe a bit more if she braided her hair, but Sharky called her “Katjess” enough that it would never happen. Alternatively, she’d never exactly been in a cuddle pile with Hudson. They did board games instead, Hudson with her feet up on the table, a beer in her hand. Pratt, trying to get her to actually follow the rules of the game, while Rook would quietly cheat, catching Hudson’s eye, who would smirk back at her. Rook buried her head further into Sharky’s shoulder. Maybe they should do a game night, once she got Hudson back. She’d get along with everyone just fine.


	3. i've fucked with forces that our eye's can't see

Rook was popular, and she wished she knew why. Maybe she was just unlucky.

She’d been shot again. Bliss bullet. An upgrade to the arrow, maybe, but she felt it lodged in her calf, oozing blood into her boot. Onto the floor. She blinked rapidly, her brain foggy. The Bliss seemed to hit her harder than most people, took her longer to drag herself out. At this point she’d been around the stuff so much that she thought she’d be immune, but it always clung to her, dragging her down deeper.

A muffled noise dragged her up to the surface, brought her to a room lit by amber light. Across from her was Hudson. Mouth duct taped, legs and arms tied to a swivel chair.

Rook started toward her, only to be restrained as well. Hudson cried out to her, tears cutting clean lines down the grime on her face. She was bruised, bloody. It was Rook’s fault. She hadn’t come quick enough, she’d left Hudson with John Seed…

 _Weak._ Jacob’s voice came unbidden to her mind. Rook squeezed her eyes shut tight enough that she saw spots.

Someone was whistling. Rook didn’t need to open her eyes to see who, and found herself squeezing the arms of the chair. She didn’t recognize the song. _If only it was a different song,_ she thought, and didn’t know why. She reached, trying to remember notes, a melody. A different song would… give her strength? John Seed kept whistling, and her head ached.

“Excited to see your friend?” John Seed asked. He waited for Rook to respond, cocking his head. There was nothing covering her mouth, but she clenched her teeth, staying silent. She didn’t say a word last time. She wouldn’t this time. “Joey. Hudson.” He kicked at the edge of Hudson’s chair, spinning her around. Rook stayed silent. He smiled at her. “I hope to hear your voice today, Deputy. I expect you to sound lovely.”

 _Get fucked,_ Rook thought.

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the power of yes,” he was saying. He watched Rook carefully, waiting. Rook didn’t care. She kept her eyes on Hudson. Hudson kept her eyes on her. She was scared, which didn’t make sense. Hudson didn’t get scared, didn’t take shit from anyone. He kept talking, waving around some dumbass torture devices. He walked toward her. Hudson yelled protests as he cut down the top of Sharky’s sweatshirt, exposing the top of her chest. Took a sponge to it, wiping away sweat and dirt, the excess water dampening her sports bra. Monologuing all the while. Rook didn’t care. His hands were soft, not callused. _Weak._ Rook didn’t know if the voice in her head was referring to John Seed, or her. She wished there was music playing.

He was yelling now. Hudson was softly sobbing. Rook didn’t feel anything, not even the bullet in her calf. He was threatening now, yelling about the power of yes, smiling smugly as he poked her in the chest with some kind of dumbass torture implement. He frowned when she didn’t flinch as the blade drew the tiniest bit of blood, and went back to his table.

Rook wasn’t afraid of him. But she was afraid for Hudson. _Her_ deputy was still sobbing quietly in her own chair. _Weak_ is what Jacob would have called her. Was what John Seed had made her. Rook’s head pounded, fighting against thoughts that didn’t feel like her own. She _would_ save Hudson. Because only she could. Rook had left Hudson behind, and she wouldn’t do it again.

When John Seed asked who would go first, Rook didn’t say anything. But when she glared at John Seed, he smiled, and Hudson cried out again.

“I had hoped to hear your voice, Deputy, but this is a start. You’re not going to regret this,” he said gleefully. Rook didn’t care, and heard only Hudson’s cries of protest. But she did care as John Seed began to take her away. John Seed, apparently seeing Rook’s expression change, stopped to lean in close. He was speaking quietly to her, shaking her chair slightly as he gripped the arms. Rook wasn’t listening, keeping her eyes on Hudson instead. She tried to stretch out her fingers from where they were bound, to reach Hudson and at least _touch_ her. Rook wanted- Jesus, she wanted to hear Hudson’s _voice_ again, she wanted someone to call her Rook instead of Deputy, this person that everyone thought she was. She wanted a… a fucking _hug,_ goddammit, and the ropes were digging into her skin as she pulled against them. When John Seed took Hudson away, something in Rook broke. A growl ripped through her chest, leaving as a snarl. That _fucking_ _bastard_ -

The door behind her hissed as John Seed locked it behind him, leaving her alone. There was a wrench leaning against a desk, but her arms were tied. But there was a staircase, and she could use gravity, if anything. Rook used her feet to scoot her chair, leaning to topple down. By this time, the fall down the stairs barely hurt, and she ripped the remainders of her constraints off. Her sock was damp and warm from the blood leaking from her calf, but she didn’t feel it. She left one-sided bloody footprints when she went back for the wrench. 

Vague memories followed her as she moved through the bunker. Limping through the maze of tunnels felt… _right_ , and the bodies fell in a familiar way. _Good._ People appeared in doorways, weapons drawn, but she was always ready. As if she had done this a thousand times before. Slightly different layout ( _compared to what?)_ but that didn’t matter. The weak all thought the same. She didn’t have a lot of ammunition, just what she picked off those she killed. That was fine. _Watch your time._ She didn’t need that much. An angel was hiding behind a corner and knocked her flat, made her shoulder feel weird where their crowbar hit. _Sloppy._ That didn’t matter. It was a decent enough crowbar, a better grip than the wrench. Rook left the angel’s face deflated when she was done.

Hudson’s cries grew louder, closer, and there were only two men left. She raised the handgun. It clicked, empty. She dropped it and grabbed the crowbar again in the same motion, never losing momentum as she crushed her enemy’s head. _Good._ She didn’t need the crowbar as the second backed away from her, eyes wide. _Cull the herd._ She took his head in her hands- one of them didn’t work quite right, but that was fine- and twisted , feeling his strings cut.

Hudson was on the other side of the door, screaming. So close, and so far away. John Seed watched her, smiling.

“I know your sin.”

 _You don’t._ The wheel on the door wouldn’t turn.

“It drives you. Every thought, every action. It’s Wrath.”

Rook pounded on the door, her fist leaving a smear of blood. Hers? If it was, she didn’t care. Hudson’s eyes were wide. _I’m here I’m here I’m here-_

John Seed laughed, leaning closer to the window. “I’ll indulge you- _become_ Wrath. Let it fill your body, consume your soul. Because in the end, you’ll still be empty.” He turned away from her. Rook hit the door again, felt herself snarl. “I’ll be waiting right here. We both will.”

She lost Hudson again. There was a hiss, and the familiar sickly sweet of Bliss flooded her senses.

_Watch your time._

* * *

Jacob was not surprised to hear that the Deputy escaped John’s hands, again. John’s methods were wrong. He wanted to contain her, to break her. The Deputy was a forest fire. She couldn’t be contained. But she could be shaped if a path was laid out for her, fed. Let her grow hotter and fiercer. Faith understood this, to an extent.

Jacob _was_ surprised, however, to see one of his Chosen aiming a shotgun at his head the next day. One moment he had been watching the trials on the monitors at the Grandview, and when he looked up they were there.

He blinked. “What are you doing here, Deputy?”

The Deputy was breathing hard. She held the shotgun awkwardly with one hard, her other arm hanging limply at her side. She didn’t say anything, just stood, glaring, eyes peering out from behind the red ski mask. How long had she been in the mountains? She’d only gotten out of John’s bunker the day before. Apparently long enough to ambush one of his hunting parties and steal the uniform.

“Deputy.”

Her arm shook. “What did you do to me?”

He hadn’t heard her voice before. It was quiet, haggard. Through gritted teeth. His eyes noted the damp splotch at her forehead, the patter of blood hitting the carpet where it dripped at her elbow. “Put down the shotgun, Deputy.”

“I-“ Her breath was shaky. “You-“

Jacob stood slowy, hands raised. “Put down the shotgun, Deputy. We don’t want an accidental fire.” He doubted she had the strength to pull the trigger. But a shotgun hitting the ground at the right angle could.

“I need you- to-“ Her arm dropped and Jacob darted forward, catching the shotgun before it hit the floor. The Deputy stumbled backward, drew a hunting knife from her belt.

“Deputy.”

She lunged at him, clumsily. Sloppy. He taught her better. He caught her wrist easily, twisted. The knife clattered to the floor. With his other hand, he pulled the mask from over her face. She was pale enough that the scar that she’d gotten her first day at the hotel was dark against her skin, a sheen of sweat making it shine. Crusted blood had matted her hair to her temple. Her pupils were huge, and the sickly sweet smell of Bliss clung to her clothes.

“Why are you here, Deputy?”

He still had her wrist, his other hand at the back of her neck, a fistful of ski mask and hair that let him force her to look up. There was something different about her that was not his doing, something feral that had settled within her.

“The music,” she whispered.

Jacob felt the box in his pocket. “What about it, Deputy?”

“What is it?”

“You broke in here to find out the name of the song?” It caught him off guard, and he answered. “’Only You’ by the Platters. It’s an old song.”

She seemed to relax, almost wilt. When she spoke again, she sounded tired. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. “Why?”

She tried to wrench out from his grip. It wasn’t hard to resist- whether she was aware or not, he had been supporting about half of her weight now. The smell of fresh blood was in the air. When he looked down, he saw a bootprint in red.

“Why did you need to know the name of the song?”

Her legs failed from beneath her, which he was ready for, and guided her into his chair. Her eyelids were fluttering now, struggling to stay open, but still watching him. He wondered how much Bliss was in her system, and how much sheer adrenaline was combating it to keep her awake. Jacob put a hand to her forehead- she was burning with fever. He picked up the fallen knife from the floor, used it to cut off her bloody jacket sleeve. No protest from the Deputy. She’d been shot at the edge of her arm, through and through.

“I asked you a question, Deputy,” Jacob said, rummaging through a desk drawer, finding the old med kit in the back. He wet some cotton with antiseptic, began cleaning. If it hurt, the Deputy made no indication.

“I’m going to kill John Seed,” she mumbled.

Jacob paused, his mind whirring. This was unexpected. Not her wanting to kill John- that, he didn’t have any qualms about. But she wanted the music. She wanted the music, to ( _put herself through a trial?)_ use it to kill him.

“Why do you need the music?” He asked, wrapping her arm in gauze. Red began to seep through immediately. As he leaned down to grab more bandaging, he noticed blood spotting on of her pants legs, and thought of the bloody footprint. He used the kit scissors to cut away fabric, finding a torn rag tied tight around another bullet wound. She must have pulled it out herself.

“Wrath,” she mumbled. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was definitely some of John’s sin bullshit. She watched his hands as he worked, cutting her makeshift bandages away and replacing them. “Makes me stronger.”

He hadn’t planned for this. He planned for her to fight him the whole way until it was over, and then keep fighting until he was done. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told her the song. Then again, she probably would have asked someone else. At least she probably wouldn’t remember this anyway.

“You don’t need it, Deputy. Not yet. It’s not time.”

“It is,” she replied, voice cracking. He felt her hand on his arm, gripping so that her knuckles were white. “He has Hudson.”

Hudson? Joey Hudson, that was right. One of the other deputies. He had Peaches- Pratt. Like they were all collecting deputies. Faith, the Marshal- and John had Hudson. Interesting- this Deputy knew that Peaches was under his control, but she hadn’t said a word yet about him.

Jacob used the med kit scissors to cut the rest of the jacket off to get to her other arm, which was still hanging awkwardly from when he pushed her into the chair. Beneath the jacket was a ratty old sweatshirt, cut down the center.

“Don’t ruin it,” the Deputy mumbled, half conscious. The sweatshirt? It was already ruined.

“If you can move your other arm I won’t touch it,” Jacob responded. “Otherwise it’s coming off.”

The Deputy shifted in her seat, grimacing as she tried to bend her elbow. “It’s not my sweatshirt,” she said, voice choked.

Jacob sighed. “Just the sleeve?”

The Deputy made some half-noise of agreement, so it went. A dark bruise was blossoming across her whole shoulder, a bump jutting out at the socket.

Jacob sighed. “I’m going to put it back in. You ready, Deputy?”

Her brow furrowed, and before she could form an answer, he grabbed her arm and twisted. She yelped and jolted, and Jacob planted a hand firmly on her chest, pushing her back against the chair. “Good work, Deputy.”

“No,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to be the Deputy.”

“Who do you want to be, then?” Jacob asked softly. He felt her heart racing.

“’M just the rookie,” she breathed, her body going limp, lids closing. “Just Rook.”

Jacob found himself staring at her for a couple minutes after she passed out in his chair. She- what? Escaped John’s bunker- he knew what a shitshow that was, he could hear the gunfire through the valley, saw the plume of greenish Bliss rising from the bunker as John smoked her out- then, high on Bliss, trekked through the Whitetails, took out a hunting party, then snuck into the Grandview? She had come a long way, in more ways than one. If anything was sure, it was that the Deputy- Rook?- was going to be the one to kill his brother. He almost wanted to be there when it happened.

But then what? He couldn’t have her losing what she’d built up. If she eliminated John Seed and got her Hudson back… Hudson had to mean something more to her than Peaches. Maybe if she got Hudson out of John’s bunker, she’d give up. He couldn’t have her doing that. At the same time, he couldn’t have her spiralling as she clearly just did, and if _Jacob_ took Hudson this time, if she lost Hudson _again_ , there was no telling what would happen, or what she would do to herself. But there was also that Sharky guy. The pyromaniac. Those two had been stuck together since the beginning. Jacob sat on his desk, thinking. It was almost funny, how small she seemed. That this was the person that it would all end with. That only she would be the one to do what they needed.

He ended up dropping her off in the Whitetails. A spot close enough to Whitetail territory, but out of view of their cameras. That dog that followed her around seemed to pick up her scent at some point while he crept through the woods with her on his shoulder. It watched from the shadows as he leaned her against a tree.

“She’s okay,” he said to the dog. Jacob rummaged through his pocket, found a piece of jerky, tossed it in the dog’s direction. Just to be sure, he checked her forehead, pulse. She was weak, but as long as someone found her soon, it would be a quick recovery. Probably. He should’ve fixed her up fully himself, stitched that bullet wound and treated her, then set her immediately to another round of trials. It was almost time. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. She needed to be at full strength, he told himself. Another part of him knew that wasn’t fully true. She didn’t _need_ to, for their purposes.

There was rustling in the brush nearby.

“Come on out. Don’t mean no harm,” Jacob said softly. The dog stepped out slowly, head and tail low. Jacob held out another piece of jerky. The dog sniffed at the air, but didn’t approach. He could just make out the name _Boomer_ on the nametag. He recognized it- some of his hunters had tried to turn it into a Judge. It resisted. “You two make a good pair. You gonna keep watch?”

The dog didn’t move, until Jacob unholstered his sidearm. Boomer’s lips raised in warning.

Jacob moved slowly, raising the gun until it pointed straight into the sky. “Don’t mean no harm,” he said, and fired. The shot echoed through the mountain. “Someone’s gonna hear that. You stay with her till that happens.”

He left her there to be found. He watched the cameras when he got back, saw the Whitetails carrying her out, loading her into a van. He felt relieved, and he didn’t know why.


	4. now the darkness got a hold on me

Rook winced from her mattress at the wolf’s den, hearing Sharky’s voice through the tunnels. She’d woken up there a day ago, her whole body aching and head swimming from pain meds, unsure of how she’d gotten there. The last thing she remembered was… Jacob. _No._ She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. Now that the Bliss from John’s bunker had finally left her system, she knew that she was incredibly, dangerously stupid.

“Dep, you son of a _bitch._ That was like, my third favorite sweatshirt.”

Rook opened one eye and smiled weakly up at Sharky. She knew she looked like a disaster, with both arms bandaged and one in a sling, leg elevated with pillows. Probably entirely black and blue. The sweatshirt she’d borrowed from him was in tatters, one sleeve missing, the collar cut straight down from the center. Courtesy of Jacob and John Seed. In her defense, most of it wasn’t entirely her fault. Apparently she had appeared in the mountains to be discovered by a patrol, unconscious and bleeding. Fortunate that a bear or a wolf or a cougar hadn’t smelled the blood first. Rook had feigned confusion when they’d told her this. _That’s one way to put it, at least._

Sharky tossed her a bag of Takis (where he managed to find some, she didn’t know) and sat at the side of the mattress, shifting the weight and making Rook groan in pain. Maybe she deserved it. She didn’t know what the fuck had happened to her shoulder, but apparently it was consistent with being dislocated. _Someone had to pop it back in,_ Tammy had insisted. All Rook remembered, all she _ever_ seemed to remember was calloused and steady hands.

“We left you for like, five minutes, dude,” Sharky said, noticing that Rook’s arms were mainly useless and opening the Takis for her.

Rook smiled weakly, pushing thoughts (memories) away. “What can I say? The Seeds love me.”

“If the Seeds love you, they’re into some kinky-ass shit,” he responded, eying her various injuries. “The fuck happened?”

Rook sighed. “John wanted me to confess my sins, I kinda got away and got shot at a bunch, then spent a day or two high on Bliss wandering around, I guess.” She didn’t dare mention that she snuck into Grandview to see Jacob. The details of the entire thing were hazy thanks to the sugar sweet coating of Bliss- she could recall the general gist of it, and that was about it. If she didn’t understand it, Sharky wouldn’t either. At the time, John Seed’s words ( _become Wrath)_ had wormed her way into her core, and in her Bliss-addled state, she believed him. That she needed to become Wrath to get Hudson back, and therefore to do that she needed to see Jacob. Because he was the only one who could help her do that, and that Jacob was the only one who could help her kill John Seed. What a stupid Jenga tower of logic. If she told Sharky that, he wouldn’t get it. She didn’t really get it either.

“Jesus H Macy, Dep.” He grabbed one of her Takis. “You and mind-addling drugs really don’t mix, huh?”

He was dancing around something, waiting for her to bring it up.

“I saw Hudson there,” she said. Bingo. His eyes flickered toward her, cautiously, patiently.

“Yeah? How’s she doin’?”

“Bad,” Rook responded quietly. That part hurt the most to think about. They crunched Takis in silence.

“We’re gonna help you get her back, buddy,” Sharky said finally. “You say the word, and me and the Boys are gonna be there.”

_You can’t help me. I’m the only one that can do it._

She didn’t say that, though. “Okay.”

Sharky was watching her face, looking for something. Finally he broke into one of his usual reassuring grins. “Well, way I see it, you’re benched. That means movie time. I’m gonna steal us a TV from Eli.”

“Tammy will kill you.”

“Tammy can suck my ass,” Sharky said, already leaving. “I’ve got more VHS tapes, any requests?”

Rook thought. For a second she was going to say _Top Gun_ , but the thought of looking at any more pairs of aviator sunglasses pissed her off. “Indiana Jones.”

“I only have _Temple of Doom._ ”

“Never mind.”

Sharky grinned back at her. “Don’t be goin anywhere, Dep.”

He left her staring up at the ceiling. Her shot leg throbbed. She’d been given a scolding for how long she’d been travelling on it (not that she remembered), and now she was paying for it. Well hell yeah she was paying for it, it hurt like a bitch. Tammy had questioned her when she’d woken up at first, asking who bandaged her up. Rook had told her she didn’t remember anything after escaping the bunker (partially true). For all anyone knew, a random Hope County citizen found her, used their precious few first aid supplies, and send her on her merry way, trying to avoid notice from any involved parties. There were plenty of people like that, just trying to ride out the whole cult thing, so it was definitely possible. If Tammy didn’t believe her, she didn’t say anything more; then again, Tammy had hated her from the beginning. If she knew she’d met with Jacob, she’d probably consider Rook a traitor and put her in that kiddie pool of hers. But Rook only met with him so she could kill John Seed. But if Jacob was next on her list, it would all work out.

Hmm. The conclusion of killing John Seed came to her so easy (that little shit), and it should have for Jacob, but… Rook gritted her teeth, the pain in her body flooding her senses for a moment. She should ask for more pain meds, but they felt a little bit too much like the Bliss for her liking. Jacob Seed was a monster, without a doubt. But so was she ( _only you)_ , and she knew that he didn’t pity her for it, or hate her, or want to fix her. And as fucked up as it was, she… needed someone to be like that, to really understand her.

 _No._ Jacob Seed needed to die, just like his brother. What was she thinking?

“Dep?” Sharky had reappeared, an old cube TV in his arms. “Should I ask Wheaty for more of the good shit?” Rook shook her head and pulled herself up to lean against the wall, but Sharky left and came back with a glass of water and something in his fist. “I’m not letting you go all action hero who doesn’t feel pain. You look like shit.”

Something she heard too often lately. She probably _should_ take some more meds, with the ache constant and loud in the background. At the least, she wasn’t going to think straight either way, so she took them begrudgingly. Sharky busied himself with hooking up the dinky TV, the kind that had a built-in VHS player. Apparently Wheaty, along with records, had been accumulating VHS tapes (what Rook wouldn’t _kill_ to have Netflix back, or even just Google- that would have saved her a visit to Jacob), and Sharky set a tall stack of them next to the TV.

“You’re not leaving this bunker until you finish all of these, twice,” he said, watching the image on the screen flutter as he rewound. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Dr. Boshaw in the house,” Rook muttered. She felt her cheeks getting hot, and her whole face tensed. A cry was coming, waiting for her to let it out. Shit. Was she that much of a lightweight? _Keep it together. There’s no reason for this._ The realization that she would be stuck in the wolf’s den while her arm and shoulder and leg healed for weeks was cresting over her. _Keep it together._ The realization that Hudson would be in John Seed’s smarmy hands while she was safe in here, watching _The Abyss_? _Weak._ It wasn’t Jacob’s voice this time, but her own. _Useless._

”Hey, buddy.” Sharky’s hand was on her forehead, checking for a fever. She didn’t open her eyes, because that would open the dams, and it would be all downhill from there. His hand brushed her cheek, and she felt him wipe away a tear that she’d tried to prevent. _Useless._ The mattress squeaked as he clambered on, gathering her in his arms.

“Ow,” Dep muttered, voice breaking.

“Sorry.” A soundtrack started, the opening credits of _The Thing._ “It’s gonna be fine Dep. Wheaty’s collection isn’t _that_ bad.” She buried her head into his sweatshirt, stifling a tear-choked laugh.

* * *

John was insufferable.

Joseph wanted a family dinner, so of course they all had to show up. They met at one of Hope County’s many diners in Faith’s region, a heavy perimeter of Chosen and Angels making sure no one would interfere. The family that ran it had been early adopters of the Project, so having to kill them afterward wouldn’t be a problem. As if a few more murders would make a dent in Jacob’s conscience. He ordered basic eggs and toast, black coffee. Faith, waffles with whipped cream and berries. John, eggs benedict. Fancy fuck. 

“The Deputy has almost reached her Atonement,” John was saying as Sam Cooke warbled in the background. Jacob chewed his toast. ‘Atonement’ was bullshit, just a reason for John to exert power over others. He wondered what it was like through John’s eyes, if it really had a point other than giving him time to carve into people. At least Jacob didn’t hide behind faith like that, other than what was required by Joseph’s Gospel. Comparatively straightforward. “I have helped her realize her true sin.”

Also, he doubted that the Deputy was going to _atone_ for jack shit. He had seen the rage in her, the sheer willpower that was the desire to kill John. It had dragged her broken and bleeding body all the way to his mountains in a stolen Chosen uniform, after all. Atonement wasn’t going to happen- there was only one way this would end. He tried to hide a smirk, and failed.

“Something to say, brother?” John asked, sneering. What a little shit.

Jacob sipped his coffee. “Nothing.”

Joseph peered at him through his golden sunglasses. “And how go the Deputy’s trials?”

“She’s doing well.” Jacob wrapped his hand around his mug, which was nearly uncomfortably hot. “She’s been gaining Eli’s trust. As soon as she recovers, she can continue her training.” He had not told them about her visit; that was between the two of them. His siblings would take any vulnerabilities they could see in the Deputy ( _Rook,_ but he didn’t dare say that name around his family) and sink their teeth into them, and he was happy to keep her newfound love for oldies to himself.

Faith crossed her arms. “You two get to have all the fun. The deputy never lets me visit her anymore.”

“That’s because your Bliss is too strong for her,” Jacob said, leaning back in the booth with his coffee.

“Oh? And how do you know that, brother?” John asked, eyes glinting.

“Observation. When she was brought in for her first trial, it took twice as long for her to break out of it than the other recruits.” Jacob replied simply. That, and the fact that she had still been high off her ass after a day of wandering the wilderness. “I wonder if she can reach your Atonement with a fried brain.”

“ _Her_ Atonement.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Quiet.” Joseph regarded them coolly. John seemed to be bristling. “Faith, you have other strains, correct?” She nodded. “See which kind will let her see the Path most clearly.”

“What is your plan for the Deputy?” Jacob asked.

Joseph’s eyes flicked back toward Jacob. “She opened the Seals. The Deputy was our beginning, and she will be with us at the end. There is a place for her at Eden’s Gate.”

“What is _your_ plan for the Deputy?” John mumbled, mockingly.

Jacob sighed. “If the Deputy is going to find her place at Eden’s Gate, she needs to survive first.” He looked at John, whose gaze darkened.

“ _Please_ ,” John spat. “I’m not the one running her like a lab rat through a death maze.”

“It is guaranteed that she receives medical attention after her trials,” Jacob replied plainly. “It is different from setting an entire bunker to just because you feel like it and leaving her to wander through the woods. I saw what you let your men do to her, I spotted her on one of my cameras the next day. Don’t think she’ll be emerging from the Wolf’s Den any time soon.”

“ _I_ am doing what she _needs._ ” John was venomous. “As far as I can tell-“ He sat back, looking smug. “ _I_ am the only one who truly understands her.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes. _I doubt that._

“My brothers and sister.” Joseph took each of their hands. “You each see the obstacles that the Deputy must overcome before she joins us. I trust that you will guide her. You are, after all, my family. I _also_ trust-“ Jacob saw Joseph’s hand tighten ever so slighty around John’s. “-that the Deputy will _emerge_ from her obstacles. If that requires a gentler hand, in some cases, then so be it.”

Jacob kept his face still as John glared at him.

Faith joined Jacob at the window as he watched Joseph and John drive away with their convoys, looking up at him with her head cocked.

“You’re worried about the Deputy,” she said in that sugar-sweet voice.

He silently cursed her, for somehow always seeming to know everything. “John’s out for blood. I need her for my plan to succeed.”

“Hmmm.” She swished her skirt back and forth. “ _You_ see it, too.”

Jacob sighed, picking up his rifle from a table and slinging it over his shoulder, starting toward his ATV. “See what?”

“That the Deputy belongs with us, of course!” She scampered ahead of him, parking herself in front of the door, and smiled up at him. “She’s like you, you know.”

He took a breath, obliging her. It was the only way to get past her once she had something to say. “How is that, Faith?”

She giggled, as if she were telling him a secret. “She’s fighting everyone around her, but she’s fighting herself too. She needs someone that understands her.” The last words were pointed. Jacob brushed past her. She called after him. “John doesn’t understand her like he says he does. I know she likes you best.” _No._ That shouldn’t be true. She should hate him like she did John. The ATV rumbled to life. “Please Jacob. I’ve always wanted a sister. Keep her safe.”

He didn’t look back as he drove away, taking the dirt paths back to the Whitetails. He couldn’t keep her safe, not with his brother on the warpath. And Faith didn’t know what she was talking about. She saw the good in people or whatever, sure. At that was certainly true about Rook, but Rook wasn’t like him. He had nothing left. And she would never join their family- she didn’t belong. _Then what are you doing? Why are you putting her through the trials?_ That was his job. He couldn’t disappoint Joseph, not after everything.

He stopped at one of his wilderness speakers, turning the ATV off early and hiking in, listening to the echoes through the trees. _What are you making her into?_ A wolf laid still near one of the bliss traps, its chest rising and falling slowly. He knelt beside it, running his hand through the fur. _What do you want her to be?_ He didn’t know that. He was supposed to want her to kill Eli, let him into the Wolf’s Den, and they would clear it out. That’s what he was teaching her to do, and so that was what she would achieve. He couldn’t turn back, not now, not after he led her to what she was becoming. What she would become, after his work was done. A monster, just like him. Irredeemable. The wolf snuffled through its haze of Bliss. At least, once he was done, there would only be one monster left. She could figure out what do after that, it was what he deserved. He hadn’t told Joseph this part, he couldn’t; Joseph protesting would hurt too much. Joseph agreeing, saying it had always been part of the plan- well, that would destroy him. No, it was better to do it quietly.

He chuckled, calling over his radio for someone to bring over a truck for his new Judge. If his end was going to involve the Deputy, it would likely be anything but quiet.


	5. how long, baby, have i been away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get fucked john seed

The recoil on a rocket launcher was so intense that she thought her shoulder would dislocate again. But it felt _good_ , to have her numb arms and Sharky beside her, grinning with own launcher, to see that stupid fucking YES sign reduced to scaffolding and cinders. It was the latest in Rook’s trail of destruction to- fuck, how did John Seed put it- _“become Wrath”._ She had emerged from the Wolf’s Den, only slightly limping still, with the singular goal of burning everything John Seed had to the ground. Her trail to Hudson would be paved with ash, a conclusion that had been put into place by John’s provocation. As she looked out over Holland Valley, the YES sign wasn’t the only column of smoke that was because of her; numerous silos and would-be roadblocks still burned, making the sky hazy. _Become Wrath._ She had become Wrath, just has he had said. Of course, he was still being a little bitch about it.

 _You will rebuild that bit by bit!_ John Seed had screamed through the radio. Prick. At least he could acknowledge that it was a lazy, not even good knockoff of the eyesore that was the Hollywood sign.

 _Get fucked,_ she though. The last chunk of siding fell onto the hillside, prompting a whoop from Sharky. Even Jess was grinning as she came back up from the trail with Boomer, where she’d picked off any Peggies that came to stop them. But they didn’t have time to celebrate.

John Seed ruined everything.

“ _Your actions have consequences, Deputy.”_

Rook stopped laughing. She’d heard that change of voice before, and her stomach plummeted out of instinct. Sharky had fallen silent beside her as well.

_“I’ve gathered all your friend here in Fall’s End to Atone for your sins. You’re welcome to join us. After all, if it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t be here in this predicament. This is your last chance to say Yes, Deputy. Don’t be late.”_

Rook stared out at Holland Valley, pieces falling into place. It was naïve for her to think that Nick didn’t answer the radio call because of how huge Kim was. He always answered. Her ears were still ringing from the launchers, and she looked toward Fall’s End. A couple smoke pillars rose from there as well, blending into the general haze. The explosions would have covered the sound of gunfire echoing through the Valley. It was quiet now.

“The fuck did he say?” Jess growled.

John Seed was right. It was her fault, it had been from the beginning. Rook started toward the truck. Why did they have to park so goddamn far away? _Don’t be late._

“Dep, where the fuck you going, girl-“ Sharky was jogging beside her now.

“The fuck do you think?”

“Dep-“ He grabbed her arm, dragging her to a stop. “I shouldn’t be the smart one here. You’ve seen enough movies to know this is a trap-“

“-I know-“

“-Then what the fuck are you doing, Dep?”

“He has _Nick_ , Sharky.” Rook wretched herself out of his grip, kept going. “And the Pastor, and Mary May and who knows who the fuck else. If you’ve got any ideas, let me fucking know, okay?” She reached to open the driver’s seat door, but a hand grabbed her arm.

“You’re a shit driver,” Jess said, pushing past her. “Get in the back.”

“Jess, come _on,_ girl-“

“Sharky, get in the _goddamn truck._ They’re gonna kill everyone if we don’t show up anyway, I know.” Jess started the engine. “For _fuck’s sake, Sharky-“_

Sharky cursed as he hopped into shotgun, and Jess gunned it, sending them careening down dirt paths. Once this was all over, she could probably have a job as a stunt driver. Holland Valley blurred past them as Jess flipped through the radio stations, swearing at the amount of Peggie music. They seemed to have flooded the airways with it.

Rook rummaged through the ammo boxes with her in the backseat, reloading. She felt strangely numb. “Drop me off at the edge of town.”

“What?” Sharky turned fully around. “Fuck no.”

“Fuck yes,” Rook responded, checking over her rifle. “I’m not letting him get any more people because of me.”

“No.” Sharky, for the first time she could remember. Actually looked pissed off. “I told you that we’re not letting you do shit alone anymore.”

Rook shoved her pockets with extra magazines. “I need people _outside_ the trap to come get me when shit goes tits up. Hey Jess, can you radio the Whitetails to see if they’ve got anyone nearby? You could use backup.”

“Got it.”

“Shit- alright, that’s- a _decent idea,”_ Sharky mumbled, running a hand across his face. “But you’re just gonna walk up to John Seed by yourself?”

“Yup.”

“Son of a-“

The car came to a screeching halt. Jess turned back toward her. “Don’t want to get any closer. I’m gonna circle around.”

Rook hopped out, centering her rifle on her back. “If I die, you’re in charge.”

Jess smirked at her. “Give him hell for me.”

“Will do.”

Tires squealed as Jess peeled out, leaving behind the smell of burning rubber. And Sharky, looking sheepish.

“You mother fucker.”

He shrugged and grinned. “Said what I said. A Sharky promise is as good as gold. You’re not going anywhere without me.”

Rook started jogging toward the town. “You promised me more Takis.”

Fall’s End smelled like blood and gunsmoke. Rooks stomach twisted, seeing doorways half open, blood pooling behind them. Rage bubbled inside her. _How dare that piece of shit._ She had done exactly what she said. She had become Wrath, and now his goddamn feelings were hurt? Fuck that guy. Fuck this. She was going to kill him, and the consequences of her actions could be his goddamn corpse. She was Wrath, and it was his goddamn fault.

“What the fuck are you humming?” Sharky whispered loudly, as they approached the church.

Rook cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

He’d laid out a red carpet leading to the church doors, with white lace and drapery embellishing it. It almost looked like a wedding was about to happen, if it weren’t for the flaps of bloody skin stapled everywhere.

“We getting married?” Sharky asked uncertainly. “Cause uh, I think of you as a sister and-“

“I know I know, aunts are as close as you’ll go,” Rook muttered. “You should get out of here.”

“Nah. There might be an open bar afterward.”

Rook stepped forward onto the carpet. A voice in the back of her head told her it was a stupid idea. The voice at the front of her head agreed, but didn’t care. John Seed would die today. Somehow.

She pushed open the door to the church, and was met with a rifle butt to the face.

* * *

Jacob had been laughing at first, listening to his brother scream at Rook while she blew up his stupid sign. He stopped laughing when John’s voice turned to venom, inviting her to Fall’s End. This was it. Rook’s so-called Atonement. The probability of John snapping and killing her was unreasonably high, as was the probability of Rook doing the same.

He was nearly out the door before John’s message ended. “Anyone near Holland Valley report to Fall’s End. Stay out of sight. I want eyes on the Deputy. Prepare for extraction if I say the word. I repeat- _stay out of sight.”_

John wasn’t going to kill Rook. Not today, not before she finished her part of his plan. Jacob got on his ATV and sped toward Fall’s End.

* * *

Something was stinging her chest. Her arm reached out, finding an arm, stopping it. It felt wrong underneath her fingers. Her brain caught up, forcing her eyes open with a choking gasp.

“Hold still. It’s supposed to say wrath, not… _rat.”_

There was a gun in her face, and someone sitting on her. Rook let her arm fall, blinking rapidly, letting things come into focus. She could feel something hot and wet trickling down her temple, something sharp buzzing against her ribs. _Fuck._ They’d hit her hard- John Seed’s stupid face was shifting in place in front of her as he tattooed her chest. Some delirious part of her thought, _oh yay, my first tattoo._ Somewhere, her mother was probably turning in her grave.

John Seed had a habit of talking while she wasn’t listening. Rook squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to get things to stop spinning. The buzzing wasn’t helping, the point of the needle seeming to dig in deeper, his knee on her stomach pushing in. Then it stopped, the pressure lifting. Rook choked in a breath, and sat up, still feeling the cool muzzle of a gun against her head.

“Perfect,” John Seed chuckled, admiring his handiwork. There were faces behind him too, coming into focus. She smothered a snarl- Nick was there, with GREED carved into his chest. The Pastor, holding his bible, with a great raw spot trailing blood. Mary May, her nose bleeding, holding up- Rook couldn’t hold it in now, and growled- Sharky, with red lines across his collarbone spelling out SLOTH. And faces she didn’t know, a bunch of Peggie goons there to watch it.

John Seed held out his hands. The prick looked delighted. Cheerful, even. “If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then bring the mountain to Mohammed. Let’s begin.”

Rough hands dragged her to her feet, pulling her toward the altar. Nick and the Pastor were brought to the forefront, flanked by Peggies. Nick started to turn his head toward her, but his face was pushed back forward with a pistol. John Seed leaned to whisper into the Pastor’s ear, to lead him through his abomination of a holy rite. When the Pastor stayed silent, he motioned for a Peggie to whip him with the butt of their pistol. Rook was pulled back as the Pastor hit the floor, dropping his bible. Mary May broke forward, lunging toward John Seed, only to be struck down as well.

John Seed was laughing. “Let’s try that again.” The Pastor was dragged upward, another bible slapped into his hands. This time he obliged.

Rook forced herself to look at John Seed. Not because she wanted to. Because she couldn’t bear to watch Nick. His involvement in… all of this was truly her fault. If not for her, him and Kim would’ve been long gone, escaped through the skies, raising their child in a better world. This one was hers.

“ _Fuck that.”_ Nick’s voice echoed through the church.

Anger flashed across John Seeds face, and he grinned, stepping past the Pastor. “There it is. _Greed._ Always thinking of yourself.” His face flickered again after Nick spat in his face. Then pulled him close, whispering. She watched as Nick’s face fell slowly, his eyes glazing over. There was an intense pressure around Rook’s arms, and she realized that her Peggie’s grips had tightened, preventing her from pushing forward. “Nick?”

“Yes.” His mouth moved, but his expression stayed dead. “Yes, I will atone.” Someone handed John Seed a knife, and Nick was dragged backward as Seed stalked toward him, obscuring her view. Then Nick started to yell out, and the Peggies were pulling her back again.

Nick’s legs were kicking against the floor. She started to hear the music against the back of her mind, felt a snarling deep within her. A hand brushed her clenched fist, and she heard Sharky’s hushed whisper through Mary May’s yelling. “Dep. Not yet, Dep.”

Just like that, John Seed arose again with scarlet arms, and Nick’s Atonement in his fingers. “ _That is the power of YES!”_

Nick curled against the floor, blood pooling around him, as John Seed stapled his skin to the church wall. Rook’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears ( _only you)_ , and a pistol was pressed into her cheek, forcing her to look up. The Pastor held his bible up to her, his stare intense, piercing into her. Trying to tell her something. Rook couldn’t think, could only hear Nick groaning. John Seed grinned behind her.

“I have heard your voice only once before today, Deputy,” he said snidely. “But you only give me the wordless language of Wrath. I hope to hear you say YES today.”

Her thoughts were only of blood. Nick’s on the floor, Sharky’s as it dripped down his chest. John Seed’s sprayed against the walls.

“-and renounce your sins and admit your transgressions.” John Seed spoke through the Pastor. They each looked at her expectantly. _No_ , Rook thought.

John Seed’s hand tightened at the back of the Pastors neck. The Pastor winced, and didn’t blink as he continued to stare at her.

“Say. Yes,” the Pastor said.

“It’s just one word.”

Rook didn’t say anything, the rage within her pulling her tight. John sighed, and the Pastor stumbled forward as he was hit again.

“Now, Deputy.” He sighed again, as if he were scolding a small child. “All I want is to hear your voice. To hear you _speak._ ” He motioned, and the Peggies dragged Sharky forward now. No. _No. Not him._ She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t have Sharky hating her too. The arms pressed into her biceps again. “If you need another example, I’m sure Sharknado here can-“

“No.” It came forth as a growl, from deep within her.

John Seed smiled. She would wipe it from his face. She saw the bible now, read the Pastor’s expression. She knew, now, that it was time for her Atonement. “There it is,” he crooned. He brushed her hair out of her face, gently. She wanted to bite his fingers off. “But you have made a mistake. Would you like to try again?”

She glared, put her hand on the bible, and waited.

“Will you, Deputy, place your hand upon the Word of Joseph, and renounce your sins and admit your transgressions?”

“Yes,” Rook said. And she opened the bible, found the handgun inside it, and fired at John Seed’s head.

* * *

“ _Shots fired. Repeat. Shots fired from Fall’s End church.”_

Jacob swore, his ATV skidding to a halt. “The Deputy? Status.”

He could hear gunfire in the background. “ _John Seed leaving the church. Hold.”_ There was a pause, and Jacob could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know why. ” _Deputy in pursuit. Both headed to airstrip.”_

The airstrip? How insane were they? But the Deputy was fine, as far as he could tell. For now. The ATV wheels kicked up dirt as he changed direction, heading toward the airstrip. It was strange. He hadn’t felt fear for a long time.

He let the ATV come to a rolling stop as John’s plane thundered overhead, and waited. Sure enough, another plane screamed past a second later, machine runs rattling. _Absolute idiots._ He changed direction again, keeping eyes in the sky. One of them was going to shoot down the other. And the other would come down as well to find them. At this point, they were too wound together to let go of the chance of watching the other die. It was the best he could do to meet them. A third plane, painted bright yellow, joined the fray. Interesting. That Nick Rye kid.

Rook was popular.

The air was thick with smoke and gunfire. Jacob watched through the canopies, impressed. He wasn’t aware that Rook knew how to fly a plane, but then again, it appeared she was good friends with Nick Rye. (Vaguely, he wondered if well meaning-idiots were her thing. He maybe only counted as one of those things. Why this mattered to him, he didn’t know.) Both planes trailed black plumes, and one went careening toward the ground. John’s. Jacob found himself smiling through the explosion in the distance, and started his ATV toward the direction of his brother’s parachute. He almost had to cover his ears as Rook’s plane crossed directly over him, the black smoke even thicker. It hit the trees about a half mile ahead. He didn’t need to look back to know she was still chasing John from a parachute. She didn’t go down _that_ easy.

He found his brother half-hanging from a tree, his parachute tangled in the branches. Jacob took his bow from his back, aimed. The arrow tore the fabric of the chute, and John tumbled to the ground, looking around wildly.

“Jacob,” John hissed, brushing off his duster. A cornered animal, frantic. “I know you’re there. Help me-“

Jacob stepped forward from the brush just enough that John could see him, and tilted his head in the direction of cracking twigs. John’s eyes went wide and he spun just in time for an arrow, not Jacob’s, to sink into his knee. He screamed and stumbled, hands covering over the shaft. _Weak._ Jacob melted back into the shadows, and waited.

Rook stepped into the clearing, soot on her face and blood trailing to her chin from her temple. The front of her shirt was cut open, and Jacob didn’t need to see it to know what was carved there. She wiped at her cheek, leaving a streak of blood that almost ran parallel to the scar there. She approached slowly, dragging a crowbar behind her, almost savoring it. At that point it did seem that John had been onto something. She had become wrath. She was a harbinger of destruction, her rage swallowing the light, lengthening the shadows.

John raised his hands, stumbling backward. Jacob had never seen pure fear on his brothers face. _You did this. Your actions have consequences, John._ Blood darkened his pant leg where the arrow protruded. “Wait- what if Joseph is right? Have you ever stopped to think about that?”

Rook swung the crowbar with both hands, sending him crashing bodily into the dirt. John didn’t shut up. He never did.

“Everyone thinks he’s crazy,” his brother said, coughing. Desperate. There was blood on his lips. “But he’s not. Look around you.” John met his eyes, and smiled. If Rook noticed he was there, she didn’t make any indication. Instead, she swung down the crowbar again, and John groaned.

“This world is on the brink, you can feel it in your bones,” he said, panting. There was a wheeze to his voice now, a panicked, broken laugh. Pitiful. “Look at the headlines. Look at who’s in charge!”

John broke out into a wet cough, and Rook reached down, grabbing the key around his neck. The key that would bring her to Hudson. John grabbed her wrist, letting her lift him along with it. Her fist clenched, the arm flexing, not letting go.

“You want this key? Because you think you’re saving people but they were already saved?” John was staring at her now, and she back at him, her face contorting. “We had. A _plan._ You don’t understand. You don’t believe.” He was yelling now. Last breaths. “You don’t _care!”_

John pushed her back, letting the cord snap. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

Rook watched him fall back, coughing. She put the key in her pocket. Then she raised the crowbar.

“Get fucked,” she said, and brought it down with both hands into his brother’s skull.

Jacob waited a minute, then stepped into the clearing. She watched him emerge from the trees, completely still except for her hand tightening around the end of the crowbar. For a moment Jacob thought she would turn on him, but only her eyes moved, tracking him as he approached. There was the remains of a fire behind them, quickly dying. He kept a healthy distance.

“Congratulations, Deputy.” A flicker of something, her eyes narrowed. “Rook.”

She wiped his brothers blood from her cheek. It had peppered her when she broke his skull, mixing with her own. There was something animalistic and feral about her, a predator standing over her prey. She broke eye contact, kneeling down to rifle through John’s pockets. “I wasn’t sure if me telling you that was real or not.”

“It was.”

“You going to kill me for killing your brother?” He watched as she found another ring of keys in the jacket pocket. Dangled them, let the jingle cut through silence, stashed them away, along with a thick wad of cash. Why the fuck his brother walked around with that much money, he didn’t know.

“You know the answer to that.”

“Do I?” She stood, pulling her rifle from her back. Not levelling it at him this time. Just a precaution. She didn’t fully trust him, which was smart. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve asked _you_ that question before.”

“Funny.”

“You know, John was very upset that you never talked to him.” Jacob put his hands in his pockets.

“Hmm. Maybe I like you more. Answer my question.”

“To see which one of you lived.” He drew a hand from his pocket, pulling out a small, paper wrapped package. He tossed it to her, and she caught it with one hand. “And to bring you a gift.”

She glared at him uncertainly. “Am I going to explode when I open this or something?”

“You’ve seen too many movies.”

“You have no idea.” She tore open the paper, finding the audio tape player inside. The old school kind that clipped to your belt, complete with wired headphones.

“You’ve got the bunker key. You’re going to get Hudson now, aren’t you?” He gestured toward the player. “Brought you some tunes.” She looked at him with a strange expression he couldn’t read. “Just make sure you turn it off when you see a friendly face.”

She smirked. It was almost a smile. “And if I turned it on now?”

Jacob chuckled. “You wouldn’t be able to hurt me if you tried.” _Not yet._

She clipped the player to her belt, gave him one final look. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself. “Tell Pratt I’m coming for him,” she said, finally.

“I probably won’t.”

Her face went stormy again and she turned to leave.

“Be careful, Rook. Focus up,” he called after her. She raised a hand in acknowledgement and disappeared into the trees.

Jacob stared at his brother. _Weak._ One of his eyes was still open, his fear frozen on his face. He considered leaving the body for the wolves, but that wasn’t what Joseph or Faith would want. So he wrapped his brother in that leather trenchcoat of his and loaded him onto the back of his ATV.


	6. feels like ages but you say its only days

The body armor Rook had picked up on the way was heavier than she thought it would be. Vest, shoulder plates. She wondered briefly if it would slow her down, then laughed away the thought, her fingers brushing over the tape player at her belt. Soon it wouldn’t matter.

She was already brushing away her rendezvous with Jacob in the clearing. That was something she could think about later, not now, not when she was about to go into John Seed’s bunker. She didn’t need to think about how she somehow knew he was there the whole time as she felt John Seed’s skull give way under her crowbar. Didn’t need to think about how he called her Rook. No. That could come later. She needed to focus.

Jess had been teaching her how to use a bow, and she was a good teacher. Creeping around the outskirts of the base, she was able to pick off about half of the ones not paying attention before the others noticed. She didn’t need the tape, not yet. Bullets chipped away at the bark on the trees around her, but by now she was used to forest warfare. The ones hiding near the bunker entrance became more of a problem as she couldn’t coax them out, but a couple grenades solved that problem. She might as well use those now, seeing as she was more likely to hurt herself with them once inside.

Rook paused before she scanned John’s key and took out her radio.

“Deputy reporting in, all good.” She winced as about five different voices all buzzed in at the same time. Finally Sharky broke through.

” _DEP WHAT THE FUCK-“_

 _”Deputy. Where are you? Are you hurt?”_ Pastor Jerome’s voice made it through in between breaths.

She waited for Sharky to stop yelling. “I’m fine. Nick okay?”

“ _Dep you absolute piece of shit-“_ She could hear Mary May shushing him in the background.

Nick’s voice came through, sending a wave of relief crashing over her. But it didn’t cover the guilt, the sight of John’s knife carving through his chest. “ _Landed safe and sound. Kim’s fine too, happy to her you’re good. Nice flyin, bud.”_

_“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU-“_

“At John’s bunker.” She winced again at the burst of noise. “Wouldn’t mind a warm welcome on my way out.”

“ _WHAT-“_ Rook switched off the radio, listened instead to the beep as John’s key granted her access. The door hissed and shifted, and the wheel turned with ease.

 _Comin’ for ya, Hudson._ Rook slipped a headphone in her ear and pressed play on the tape recorder. The opening notes sounded, and it felt like coming home. It shouldn’t have, but it did.

Rook flowed like water through the bunker. _Only you._ The remnants of John’s men knew she was coming, but that didn’t matter. She knew where they were, how people moved through a bunker. How they ducked behind doorways to reload. She rounded a corner. A Peggie fired at her with a pistol. Predictable. Rook had already sidestepped by the time he finished pulling the trigger, raised her own sidearm, blew him away. She knew how to conserve ammo, how she could break lines just with ricochets. What materials couldn’t take more than half a round before bullets started breaking through.

Eventually Rook started feeling pain again- a deep throbbing at her ribs that made her breath hitch if she inhaled too much, a stinging at her arm accompanied by a familiar hot wetness- and she realized that her headphones had broken, the wire snapped. Or torn. She wasn’t really sure when it happened. But at least the tape seemed fine- the plastic cover of the player was cracked now, but the buttons still worked, so that was something. She groaned, feeling at her chest. She’d forgotten about the body armor, and felt at the new holes and tears at it with a morbid fascination. Shit. She really should have invested in a vest earlier. Although this one was probably nearing uselessness, judging by the pain in her ribs- it was a miracle that nothing had broken through yet, as far as she could tell. There was also a weird, tingly numbness at the cut at her arm- maybe a bullet graze?- but she would worry about that later. It was just a graze.

Golden yellow light came from the hallway ahead of her, the bunker quiet. She was close to Hudson now, she could feel it. Stairs led downward, headed by the word _PRIDE._

As she stepped into the final layer, something in the air seemed to change. This was John’s domain, now. Jacob had led her here, but this was John’s domain. Fear, absent since she had put in the headphones, was settling in, lapping at her feet, guiding her in deeper.

 _I know your sin,_ John’s voice whispered. The words- greed, envy, lust- followed down the steps, ending with Rook’s sin trailing rusty streaks toward the floor. _It drives you. Every thought, every action._

The air smelled like iron. Rook stepped through the bunker carefully, her footsteps making no sound _(? Just like Jacob had taught her?)._ She wished the music was there. She was scared. She was scared that she would make her way back to that room, and Hudson would still be in the chair. She wished the music was there.

A man hung by his feet, a pair of antlers in his chest. Flowers blossomed from there. _Your actions have consequences._ This wasn’t her. She didn’t do this. This wasn’t her fault. _I’ll indulge you._ She wished the music was there.

She wanted to call out Hudson’s name, but feared silence as a response.

More hung from the ceiling, wrapped in dark plastic. She didn’t do this. She didn’t do this. John’s voice was snaking through her mind. _I’ll indulge you._ It _was_ her fault, she provoked him, he only rose to match her- the white bone of a cow skull, the horns reaching like arms, paralleling the ones spread below, like a crucifix. _I’ll indulge you._ This was her fault. He made her, she made him. The dark, empty eyes of the skull bored into her. An old saying came to her mind, in John’s voice: _hell is empty._ She stared at it, thoughts muddling ( _let it fill your body)_ diluting into water, bringing her under ( _let it consume your soul)_. John Seed, wherever he was, held her head under as the water filled her lungs. Her actions had consequences, and this was her fault. She wished the music was there, wished that it was his brother in her ear instead. She wished to hear his voice, _needed_ to hear his voice, drag her back up.

 _In the end you’ll be empty._ She tore her eyes away from John’s creation, saw the bodies in chairs, hands and feet bound. She saw (did she?) Hudson’s tear-streaked face, whimpering through duct tape. _Empty._ Rook stumbled toward one (when did her feet get so heavy?) and spun them around. The head, shaved bald, lolled on the shoulders, limp. This couldn’t- it wasn’t- it wasn’t Hudson. It wasn’t. But there was still another, another body in a chair, the head hooded. And she was at the end of the line. She had failed. She left her too long. Hudson’s name was on her lips, and when she called, she would hear silence. She stepped toward them, drowning.

She didn’t care when something slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, causing spots to take over her vision. _Rook._ Jacob’s voice forced her hands up, forced her to catch the knife before it hit her throat. She didn’t want to. She wanted to sleep, finally let the waters take her. She was tired, and everything was her fault. _Rook._ It was her fault.

 _Focus up,_ Jacob said, so she pushed her attacker back. But they fell back upon her with a shout, a fist to her face < _say yes > _and the knife was there again.

Her attacker thrust down with one decisive strike. < _SAY YES >_

Rook wanted to let it happen.

_Your consequences have actions._

Faces looked down at her, blankly staring, some with the Eden’s Gate crest pressed into them, many without. the faces of angels of chosen of atoned < _say yes say yes say yes >_ their mOuths bound as they pressed the knife to her sternum, t. the faces of whitetaiLs ()(( _(no_ ) faces that caused recog ni tion to cross sharkY’s face as he passed over them. the f aces of whitetails ((((((( _((not yet (( **YOU** )))))) _

Steady, callused hands guided her own upward to fight it. She didn’t want to. She wanted to let the depths take her, so she could finally sleep. It had been so long. If she slept, she could forget that it was her fault. The things she had done. The thing she had become. But somewhere in the back of her mind, Jacob Seed didn’t let her. _Focus up._

And he pulled her back up. Wherever he was, Jacob Seed pulled her back up.

He forced her head up ( _had he done that before?)_ and forced her to look her attacker. Her attacker. The tear-streaked face. The braid. The determination, the strength, the resolution.

”Joey.” Rook gasped with all the air left with her lungs. Anything past that was for Hudson to decide.

Hudson didn’t stop pushing at first. John Seed pushed her, the force building, the knife tip pushing into her ruined armor. But Jacob Seed pushed back.

_Only you._

_I’ll indulge you._ John Seed sneered down at her, cutting her sweatshirt. Holding a tattoo pen. Holding her shoulders down, keeping her underwater.

**_Only you._ **

“ _Rook.”_ The voices of Jacob and Hudson blended together for one name. But it was Joey, her _Hudson_ that looked down at her with wide eyes circled by black, wide eyes circled by disbelief. “Its you. Oh god, oh god- I didn’t think you’d come back-“

_Didn’t think you’d come back didn’t think become wrath I’ll indulge you didn’t think empty consume emptyyoudcomeback_

Hudson didn’t think she would come back. The knife was on the floor, but it cut just as much.

_ROOK. FOCUS UP._

She gasped, and saw Hudson. She saw Hudson. Her attacker was sitting up, breathing hard, looking upon her with wide eyes. It was Hudson. It was Hudson. The bruises on her face since Rook had last saw her were replaced by fresh _(never again)_ ones.

She didn’t think Rook would come back.

Hudson was looking around the room wildly, cornered. Rook caught her breath on the ground, reality _(Rook, focus up)_ slowly coming back to her. She waited for the minotaur on the wall to go away, and it didn’t.

“Something- something started happening,” Hudson was saying. Voice choked, stunted with fear. “All the Peggies… all the fucking Peggies started scrambling around, all the doors started closing-“

“Hudson,” Rook croaked. She tried to speak, but wasn’t sure if she was making a sound.

Hudson was staring at the ghoulish crucifix, the bull’s head on a mounted body. Eyes wide, eyes terrified. “-I thought I was gonna be down here forever-“ Hudson looked across the room. “He would just… He would just stand here and _watch-“_

“I killed him,” Rook said. She wasn’t sure if her voice was working. “I killed him. I killed him.”

Hudson stared at her. Hudson. Hudson. (a piece a first a last) (a piece of her life from _before_ , from _before_ the Seeds) (a first, and a last)

“John Seed is dead. I killed him,” Rook said, and felt very tired.

Hudson gaped at her. “Holy fuck.” She looked around the room, at the nightmares John Seed trapped her with. “We need to get out of here.” Her eyes fell on a portrait of Joseph Seed, hanging around the neck of one of the bodies. Her face fell. “He would just fucking watch,” she said, stepping toward it.

Rook pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling her head swim. She waited for the bull skull to blur out of existence. It kept staring at her.

“He would just fucking watch,” Hudson repeated, a desperate laugh. “We were begging for mercy, and he would just fucking… watch.” She kicked the portrait away and turned back to Rook, wiping at her face. “The others… there were other people down here with me.” She pulled Rook to her feet. The room swayed. “We are gonna get them out. And then we are going to burn this fucking place to the ground.”

Hudson stood for a moment, hands shaking, before she turned abruptly, pulling Rook into the most tightest hug of her life.

“Ow,” Rook squeaked, eyesight blurring out again. A weird grating sensation was in her chest, making her spine crawl.

“Oh god, Rook.” Hudson had buried her face in her neck. “Fuck it, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I never thought I’d see you again, I thought he’d killed you-“

The bull-headed man was still staring at Rook.

“Is that real,” Rook found herself saying.

Hudson pulled up, looking over her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s fucking real. Come on, lets-“ Rook blinked rapidly, trying to make her vision clear, was vaguely aware of Hudson peering at her. “Holy shit Rook, you’re tripping balls.”

_That would explain a lot._

* * *

Sharky wasn’t sure what he expected in seeing the Dep and the other Dep reunited. The fact that Dep came out of the bunker tripping balls a second time wasn’t a surprise. According to the other Dep- _Hudson_ , fuck this was getting confusing already- John Seed had been experimenting with a new strain of Bliss that caused a particularly bad trip. Apparently Dep had gotten nicked by a dosed bullet, but it didn’t help that part of her plan in destroying the bunker once and for all involved blowing up a large portion of Bliss containers. So when Hudson carried her back from the chopper, with her eyes all big and staring at everything like they had two heads, it was expected at least.

He had hoped though, that having Hudson back would help. There was a way that Dep had talked about the other Dep. Sharky was dumb, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that at some point, Dep definitely had the hots for the other Dep. Without a question. Why else would she run into fire again and again to get her back?

But now Hudson _was_ back. _And_ John Seed was dead. He didn’t expect Dep to have a new spring in her step, or find new joy in life or whatever, but he didn’t expect her to flinch at Hudson’s touch. To lean against him so hard as he took her weight from Hudson, to lead her toward the Spread Eagle. He didn’t expect her to still be scared. 

He hoped it was that new Bliss, and that she would come down from it, and that she would be happy again.

He hoped, but didn’t expect it.

* * *

Faith Seed wept. Their brother lay in a pure white coffin, embellished in white flowers. A white suit, hands in white gloves folded neatly over his chest.

It was too bad they couldn’t do anything about his face.

“She wouldn’t do this,” she kept saying. _Oh, she would._ “The Deputy wouldn’t do this- I _know_ that there is good in her, that she can be saved-“

The service had been brief, his brother’s voice cracking as he told the chapel of followers how John had ascended to Eden. How he was lucky to make the journey, and that his Atonement for his sins allowed him to do so. He had closed his book after a sermon on resolution and retribution, and stepped down, accepting tearful words and promises from the followers, watched them slowly file out. Eventually it was just the siblings, staring over the casket as Faith grieved. Jacob watched stoically, uncomfortable in his funeral blacks, and Joseph did the same, peering down at the crater that was his brothers head through his golden glasses. It was a look that Jacob had seldom seen. Under the calm exterior, the cool gaze, Joseph Seed was seething.

This would not bode well for Rook.

“Why- why would she do this- Joseph, I don’t _understand-_ “

“Because she did not understand him,” Joseph said. “She did not understand him, so she did not know she was being saved.” He regarded Faith coolly. Ran a hand over her hair. “There is still a chance, sister. She her the Path. She fears you, because she fears salvation. The chance of happiness. You can show her that, my Faith.”

 _Shit._ Jacob hoped Rook wasn’t going to be swimming in the Henbane anytime soon.

Joseph turned toward Jacob. “Walk with me.” The left Faith to mourn with her attendants in her chapel, leaving the sound of sobbing behind.

“I want you to proceed with the Deputy’s trials. I want you to finish it.” He enunciated the words with precision, finality.

 _Shit._ “It’s too soon.” Far too soon. From what his hunters gathered, Rook was on bedrest with a chest full of broken ribs.

“I don’t care.” Sometimes Jacob forgot that Joseph possessed all of John’s venom, if not more. “The Deputy deserves punishment.”

His brother was out for blood. Jacob’s mind spun, trying to direct him away. “If we go now, she won’t succeed. She was injured recovering Deputy Hudson from John’s bunker. She needs more time.”

“I don’t need you to describe how the Deputy desecrated our brother’s work, Jacob.”

Jacob stepped in front of him. “Joseph.” He took a breath. “You entrusted this task to me. And I have carried it out. It will be a success. I still need more time. I can’t continue the trials, not so soon.”

“Can’t?” Joseph asked. “Or won’t?” He smiled thinly, sending a chill down Jacob’s spine. “What do you and the Deputy talk about? What does she say to you when she comes to your office?” Jacob’s stomach sunk, and his body went cold. Joseph paced around him. How did he know? How much did he know? “Do you bring her gifts? Does she accept them?” He stopped over Jacob’s shoulder, whispered in his ear. “Did you watch? Did you help her?”

Jacob couldn’t move.

Joseph stepped back in front of him. “Punish her, Jacob.”

He swallowed, his tongue thick in his mouth. “Give her time to heal. It will be for nothing if she fails.”

Joseph regarded him for a long moment, an eternity. Jacob could feel cold sweat at the back of his neck. His brother turned on his heel, continued down the hallway. “Fine. But make her feel it.”


	7. there ain't language for the things i've seen

Rook woke up from her nap with a headache. Someone was poking at her ribs, causing an explosion of pain through her chest.

“Ow,” she groaned. She opened her eyes to see Mary May looking down at her, concerned. Behind her, Sharky, smirking.

“That’s what you fuckin get for going on without me,” he said.

“Give her a break, Sharky,” Mary May mumbled. She poked again, feeling for broken ribs. Judging by how much it fucking hurt, there were many. “Christ, you’d be swiss cheese if you weren’t wearing a vest. You know, you’re not supposed to wear it until it disintegrates. They’re only good for a couple shots, not two dozen.”

Rook sat up, wincing, looked down at her torso. Someone had removed the borrowed sweatshirt, which was in a ruined heap in the corner. What wasn’t covered up by her sports bra was mottled nearly completely with dark purple and brown. Someone had also covered up her new tattoo with a large bandage, which still felt hot and raised under her fingertips.

“Nothing a couple beers won’t fix,” Sharky said. “You’re sleeping through the party, numbnuts.”

Sure enough, there was music and chatter coming from downstairs. Of course- John Seed was fucking dead. This would be a lot of people’s first restful night in who knows how long. Rook wiped her hand down her face. Fuck. She still felt like shit. The chest, the headache, the way that if she turned her head too fast she could still see traces of afterimage.

“Was I drugged again?” Rook mumbled, rubbing at her eyes as if that would make things better. It didn’t.

Sharky nodded. “According to Hudson, a new John Seed cocktail. Hopefully it went down with the bunker. You kept saying weird shit about minotaurs after we got you out of the helicopter. Don’t worry though, you’ve only been nappin’ for about four hours. Tried to let you rest a little bit before we put you back together.”

“Is Hudson-“

Mary May gently pressed on her shoulders as she tried to stand up. “She’s downstairs, Deputy, and doin’ just fine. We gotta take care of you first, and then you can go back down to see her. You’ve got a broken ribs, so we need to make sure you’re not going to mess yourself up even more.”

Rook nodded, throat tight. 

“Alright. I’m gonna wrap your chest. It’s gonna suck a whole lot, but it will keep you and your ribs from moving around too much-“ The sound of breaking glass and rowdy cheers came from downstairs and Mary May swore. “They’re going to-“ A second, larger crash, and the cheers grew louder. She tossed Sharky a roll of ace bandages. “Wrap her up, I gotta make sure they don’t destroy the _fucking bar-“_ Her footsteps thundered down the stairs. Rook could her her go “ _HEY”_ followed by a chorus of good natured protests.

Sharky stood by the doorway, tossing the bandage roll in the air with one hand, eyebrow raised. Oh no. No no no.

“I’m going to patch you up and we are going to talk,” he said plainly.

Rook collapsed back down onto the bed ( _ow)_ and covered her face in her hands. “I don’t wanna.”

“Hey buddy. I can patch you up nice and gentle or I’m gonna shove those rib bits back where they’re supposed to be, its your choice.”

Rook groaned. “At least bring me a drink first,” she mumbled through her fingers.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t care. Fuck me up, Sharky.”

“Ten four. Take your top off for when I come back up.”

“Now you _really_ need to bring me a drink first.”

He came back up with three beers and what looked like a long island iced tea. “I thought I said top off, Dep. Don’t get all shy on me now. Gotta wrap you up like a mummy so your rib knives don’t stab you in the lungs.”

“I can’t get it off.” _Weak._ Jacob’s voice reappeared in her head, but she could almost hear him laugh. _Not my fault that sports bras are tight as shit by definition,_ she thought.

Sharky sighed and set down the long island next to her. She turned around, facing away, and drank deeply ( _holy shit was it strong)_ as he cut her sports bra off, adding to her collection of ruined clothing. She drank more as he started to wrap her chest, because it hurt like a bitch. The fact that she could feel _grinding_ inside her was probably the worst sensations she’d ever felt.

“Does it have to be so tight,” she asked through gritted teeth, hands curled around the edge of the headboard, gripping it tightly. The alcohol couldn’t kick in soon enough.

“That’s kind of the point, super chief,” he said behind her. “So why’d you storm in without me?” Rook winced, not entirely from the pain. Sharky sighed. “Dude, I’ve been pretty chill about it, but you’re super fucked up. Not just in the ‘your bones are now a thousand-piece puzzle’ way. So I’m going to be Dr. Boshaw, therapist, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I-“ Rook hissed at the pressure in her chest. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Not a lie.

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“I thought you were supposed to be my therapist.”

“I’m pretty sure half the job of being a therapist is to tell someone when they’re being fucking stupid.” Sharky paused to take a drink. Rook rested her head against the headboard, catching her breath. “You know how in action movies the cool funny sidekick is always there to have the main dudes back? That’s me. You can’t go barging in alone anymore.”

 _Make sure you turn it off when you see a friendly face._ How could she tell Sharky that _she_ would be the one hurting him? She couldn’t. “Sharky-“

He pulled the bandages tight, and she gasped as the pain flared. “Look, buddy. I know that Jacob Seed did some shit to your head. I know you don’t- you don’t think the same as you used to sometimes, and I’m just saying that it gets worse when you go off by yourself. So-“ He paused his wrapping, holding it in place with one hand. Finished his beer, opened another. “I’m just saying you need someone, don’t have to be me, to be a sounding board, to make sure you’re thinking right. Alright?”

“Your hand is on my tiddy.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He resumed wrapping. “Was that an ‘okay Dr. Sharky, I’ll stop being such a dumbass’?”

“Probably.” Rook sipped at her long island.

“Goddamnit, Dep. I mean, I’m not saying it has to be me that’s your buddy. You’ve got Dep number two back now-“

“No.” Rook gulped her drink, feeling it heat her from inside. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t do what?” Sharky waited for her to answer. “Dep, why are you scared of Hudson?”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll be your wingman-“

Rook choked. “Please don’t.”

“Because you’re not going to make it with her without my help-“

“Sharky-“

“I’m gonna talk to her for you if you don’t tell me what the fuck is up.”

Rook brushed his hands away, and curled in on herself. He waited for her answer. “She’s gonna see that I’m different. Sooner or later, she’s gonna see what I’ve done.”

A warm hand was on her shoulder. “You’ve helped a lot of people, Dep. That’s what she’s gonna see.”

“I crushed John Seed’s skull in with a crowbar, and I was happy about it.” She laughed bitterly. “It felt fucking _good,_ Sharky.” Rook kept her back turned. She didn’t want to see pity on his face. There was probably only one person she could tell that to who wouldn’t give her pity, and he wasn’t there. He could never be there. “I’ve _hurt_ a lot of people, and it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Sharky was silent for a moment, and it crushed her. “That’s not your fault. That’s John Seed’s fault, and Jacob’s and Josephs and whatever their hot sister’s name is.” The last part made her laugh just a little, which hurt. “If you’ve changed, it’s not your fault, and its not all bad, buddy.”

Rook wiped at her face. What a fucking lightweight she was. “I feel like- I feel like the past me would have been happy with her, you know?”

“You can still be happy, buddy. You can still make other people happy.”

Rook shook her head. “How long do you think that it will be then,” she said bitterly, voice breaking, “until I can look at her and not think about the time I left her in that bunker?”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“’I didn’t think you were coming back’. That’s what she said, Sharky.” _Weak._ “If I’d been stronger-“ Rook bit her tongue, the buzz of alcohol almost dragging her down that path, the one toward Jacob. “I’m the reason she was there so long.”

“And you’re the reason she’s out. Sit up, goddamnit, so I can finish wrapping you up.”

Rook sniffed, and wiped at her nose. Snotty. “It just hurts a lot,” she choked out. 

“I know, buddy. It’s done, though. It’s all over.” He pinned her bandages in place. “How about- how about we skip the party downstairs? You’re not supposed to be moving around anyway. How about we grab Jess and Nick and- and we can get Hudson too, and we’ll watch _the Mummy_.”

Rook hid her face against the headboard. “Was this all revenge for ruining your sweatshirt again?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. As if he could tell that she wasn’t crumbling from the inside out.

“Sure is, buddy.” He ruffled her hair. “I’ll get you another one.”

* * *

He could feel Dep shaking from where she sat, always facing away from him, but she nodded. Fuck. Girl needed a nap, more than a few ibuprofen, and apparently, Brendan Frasier. Sharky rubbed small gentle circles on her back, trying not to fuck up his handiwork, and turned quietly. He gave Hudson a nod. She’d been there the entire time, obviously, listening with a hand over her mouth, quiet tears streaming down her cheeks. She nodded back, then padded silently downstairs.

This was probably a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality.

Sharky stayed with her for a while longer, braided her hair and made stupid jokes until the silent, wracking ( _fuck_ that had to hurt) sobs slowed and she calmed down. Left her another sweatshirt (he was gonna run low one of these days, the rate she was going through them), went downstairs to join what was left of the party. Most everyone had cleared out, save for Nick and Kim, who sat with Pastor Jerome in one of the booths. Hudson sat at the bar, holding a mostly-full beer, absentmindedly drew circles in the condensation on the bartop.

“Rookie doing alright?” She asked in a low voice. She had trouble meeting his eyes.

Sharky sighed. “As well as she can. She’s had a tough time. Seeds wont give her a goddamn break. Spent the last couple of months trying her damndest to get you back and… well, I guess she doesn’t know what to do now.”

Hudson nodded. “John talked about her a lot.” The way she said it told Sharky that just as John Seed had held Hudson over Rook’s head, he had done the same with Hudson.

Sharky popped the top off another beer, took a swig. “She gave him hell.”

She laughed, a short, halfhearted thing. “I know, he wouldn’t fucking shup up about it.” Her gaze darkened. “I just wish… I could’ve been there to see it, you know? I would’ve- I…” She rubbed at her arm.

“I think she would like to hear that,” Sharky said quietly.

“She used to be afraid of guns, you know that?” She smiled to herself. “Hated the kick, because she was fucking tiny.”

“You should’ve seen her with a rocket launcher,” Sharky chuckled. “Blew her off her feet.”

The smile broadened. “You’re kidding.”

Sharky paused, thinking. “Holy shit. That was actually today. Fuck, it’s been a day.”

Hudson went distant again. “Its been a fucking couple months.” They drank in silence for a minute, until Hudson cleared her throat. “You know, she’s scared she’s changed. But I have too. We’re both, I don’t know. Completely different people, probably.” She looked at Sharky. “I’m happy you’ve been with her. I think she needs someone like you.”

Sharky chuckled. “I’m just trying my best. She’s like my lil sister at this point.” Something fluttered across Hudson’s face, her face flushing ever so slightly. “She’s missed you a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet she misses the others just as much.” She looked away. “You hear from any of them?”

Sharky thought. “The Sheriff is at Hope County Jail, he’s helping fight Faith. We visited there, but that was a while ago, so we’re probably due for a check in.” Visible relief passed over Hudson’s face, but faded as he went on. “Faith’s got the Marshall and for all we know, he’s been tripping hard for months now, and Jacob’s got Pratt. Dep’s seen him.”

“She’s seen him?”

Sharky nodded, trying to choose words carefully. “Jacob got his hands on Dep for a little while. We lost her for a couple weeks, till the Whitetails got her back. She was a little different after that.” Hudson’s face was white. “Listen- did John ever say anything about Jacob? Or about what Jacob did to Dep?”

Hudson took a long swig, and a deep breath. “John fucking hated Jacob. From what I could tell- from John’s point of view, Jacob was trying to ‘steal’ Rook from him? I don’t know. He got really weird toward the end, kept going on about saving her from him. Also went on about how it was Jacob’s fault that she fucked him over so much. Why?”

Sharky sipped at his beer. Honestly, he wasn’t that sure. But he could sense something weird between Dep and Jacob, something different from that pure rage between her and John. “Dunno. Eli and the Whitetails said she got put through the trials- you know, where it’s like that show Wipeout but with a shitton of murder. That’s pretty much where she started going full Terminator. But she doesn’t talk about it, or Jacob Seed. She was pretty open about how much she hated John, I guess. Clams up when Jacob is brought up, though.”

Hudson shrugged. “They’re all fucking psychos in their own way. They fucking weasel their way into your head. Maybe he just does it differently.”

“I guess. Thanks, Deputy.”

Hudson choked on her beer. “That name is claimed already. Don’t call me that one. Honestly, I’m probably the rookie now compared to Annie.”

Sharky was shook. “ _Annie?_ ”

Hudson cocked her head and her eyes widened. “Holy motherfucking shit. You fucking don’t know her name.” Sharky started chugging beer, trying to hide his face. “Oh my fucking god. How long have you been travelling together?”

“Everyone calls her Deputy or Dep. I thought her name was Rook, cause that’s what all you other deputies called her, but like, that was on dibs already-”

“Because its her fucking nickname!” Hudson seemed to be laughing for the first time since she’d left the bunker. “Oh my actual god-“ She pointed a finger at him, mock serious. “Don’t ever call her Annie though, she fucking hates it, she’ll kill you-“ Hudson’s face twisted, another laugh leaking out. “Oh shit, she probably could now-“

* * *

They had their movie night the next night at Nick’s house. Dep was nearly a nervous wreck the entire ride there, rigid and staring straight ahead. Part of that could be attributed to her ribcage being soup now, but Sharky suspected that Rook still blamed herself for the whole atonement thing. Nick had started off the night by grabbing Dep in a huge bear hug, followed by a long, frantic apology after she’d almost passed out from the pain of it. Rook seemed like she was about to fully start crying when Kim asked to talk to her, but Sharky spotted them hugging it out on the porch. Very awkwardly, due to Rook’s habit of being shit at hugs, her broken ribs, and Kim’s hugeass belly. But when they came back in Rook’s shoulders were slightly less hunched. Hudson was sheepish, trying to figure out what the hell everyone’s deal was, but Jess quickly sidled up to her, whispering in her ear. Sharky chuckled when Dep’s face went pale for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of them, but then relaxed when Hudson started asking about the time they all accidentally got super high from a stoner prepper’s “bunker air filtration system”. (“I’m not tryin’ to steal your girl, calm _down_ Dep” followed by “ _She’s not- shut up”_ ).

As always, Dep started out the night rigid as a statue, sandwiched between him and Jess, while Hudson sat with her back to the sofa. Keeping her distance, for Dep’s sake, but always looking back with a reassuring smile. As always, Dep melted eventually, this time falling asleep across Sharky’s lap by the time the mummy dude was storming Cairo, probably dosed out of her mind on pain meds. (They thought they’d given her a normal dosage, but again- Dep and drugs did not mix). Hudson spent the rest of the movie, and a period after that, softly telling him and Jess and Nick about their time at the sheriff’s office, before everything happened. The Dep and Hudson and Pratt, overseen by the Sheriff. Their own little family. Now, kinda sorta blending into a new one in Hope County. It was nice, and wholesome, probably the nicest and wholesomest (definitely a word) thing to happen since the whole thing started.

At some point in the night, Sharky woke himself up with his own snore, looked around to make sure he didn’t wake anyone else up either. And noticed that Dep’s hand had flopped over the edge of the sofa onto Hudson’s shoulder, and that Hudson’s hand had risen to meet it.

* * *

Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. He was tired, and it wasn’t working.

He shouldn’t be surprised- he’d had weeks to perfect what he had done to Rook, and she had unexpectedly cooperated with him, in a way. He shouldn’t be expecting this man- Briggs, that was the name that he’d heard over the radio- to pick it up so quickly. Not to mention that as one of Eli’s main men, he was stubborn as hell.

It wasn’t working, and he didn’t have _time_ for this.

‘Only You’ was playing in the background. He didn’t use that song with everyone. He used Dion and the Belmonts when making his chosen. He picked ‘Only You’ on a whim, because at the time he figured he should use a different song for the Deputy. It turned out to be fitting. Joseph called it destiny, that nothing happened by chance.

From behind his closed eyes, he felt the lights of the projector flickering as it switched between images. He was bored and frustrated. He’d been at it for the better part of three days, and the slideshow was repetitive- it was meant to be. Same pictures of deer, wolves, deer ripped apart by wolves, et cetera. Briggs struggled in his chair, grunting. Jacob sighed and flicked off the projector, turned down the volume.

“This can be over very quickly,” Jacob said, his patience wearing thin.

Briggs panted, head low. “Please-“

“Location of the Wolf’s Den.”

Brigg’s was silent. Jacob could nearly hear the man’s teeth grinding as he worked to keep his mouth shut. _Goddamnit._ He needed this to work. Briggs was the closest man to Eli that still operated outside of the Wolf’s Den. Grabbing him was a pain in the ass, and was a job that Jacob took to personally. If this was his last hope, he wasn’t going to let someone else fuck it up. If he could recreate what he did with Rook, then all his problems could be solved. If he could at least get the exact location and a way to get into the Wolf’s Den, then _most_ of his problems could be solved, and he would just have to take an afternoon to finish the rest. Then he wouldn’t have to call Rook back. And maybe everything would be different. He still had a hard time seeing what would happen after Eli fell, but maybe, just maybe if Briggs could _get his shit together_ … maybe things would be different.

Jacob lazily turned the knob on the stereo, letting the music play louder. He watched Briggs’ knuckles go white against the arms of his chair.

“Where is it, Briggs? Tell me.” He watched him, circling. It could be so easy. It could be so _fucking_ easy.

Briggs yelled through his teeth.

“The location of the Wolf’s Den. _Tell me.”_

Briggs forced an eye open, staring at Jacob with rage and determination. He laughed, a pained, strangled noised.

“Over my dead body,” he spat.

Jacob sighed and rolled his eyes. _Goddamnit._ He flicked the projector back on, and left the Briggs to stew there. He’d come back later. He needed to get out of there before he killed Briggs out of frustration. He was so _fucking_ close to everything being better. No, he’d go out, check the wolf calls, come back in a day or so. Maybe Briggs would have learned by then.


	8. the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I wasn't going to add another chapter for another couple of days, but I got comments from sirenmarrow and thewomanofwonder that were so fucking nice and I've written about 15k words ahead so why not  
> Thanks you guys for the comments I was doing a little happy dance when I read them they made my day :)  
> Ok here's a lot of angst now

They were going to the Grandview. One of Eli’s guys had been captured, and they were doing to him whatever they had done to her. So they were going to go get him back, just like they did with her. ( _If only they hadn’t taken so long)_

They were going to the Grandview, _without her._

Rook kicked at the door, frustrated. They’d barricaded her in the room, which was rude. For fuck’s sake, she helped them _plan_ , filled in the blank spots of Eli’s Grandview map best she could from her spotty memory. Described where the prisoners would be kept, the general layout of the maze she’d run through over and over. Sharky had even agreed to let her drive them as long as she stayed in a snipers nest, just gave them updates about the Peggie’s positions from afar. She woke up in the late afternoon from a painkiller-induced sleep, far after the time they’d agreed to leave, alone. The fucking liar. Furious, Rook tried to climb out the window, only to be met with the Pastor, sitting in a lawn chair outside the Spread Eagle, pointing a shotgun at her from below. _(You could get past him, it would be easy)_ So she climbed back in and badgered them over the radio.

Leaving her behind was probably a good idea, to their credit. She would have been too much of a liability, even more than they probably knew. _Just make sure you turn it off when you see a friendly face._ Just a bit of stray music would make her turn on them in a heartbeat. Plus her ribs were still royally fucked up. Yeah, probably a good idea that they left her behind. Didn’t mean she liked it, though.

“ _How’s it feel now, Dep?”_ Sharky had laughed at her over radio. Which was fair, she supposed, although he definitely didn’t need to point it out. 

Then the motherfuckers had the audacity to change radio frequencies, and she was in the dark.

She didn’t hear from them for three days. It made sense, she kept telling herself. Big operation, so giving her updates wouldn’t exactly be a great idea. But updates would be _nice._ Frustrated, she stopped badgering their normal frequency, and waited for them to radio back first. As if she was some high schooler trying to get back at their immature teenage boyfriend.

And Christ, they could’ve left her with something decent to do besides a handful of VHS tapes she’d seen already and a stack of Mary May’s trashy romance novels. It was better doing nothing than reading about another quivering bosom or engorged member. _Fuck._ The boredom led her to think about things she didn’t want to, about how thing were before, how they could have been. How things could have been different, how she could have- _should_ have done things differently, because now it was too late, and it didn’t matter. She was too far gone. She ended up ripping up one of the romance novels, trying to remember how to make a paper crane, instead remembering how to make paper footballs and paper planes that she flicked at the Pastor outside.

She still had dreams of golden light and antlers and men hanging from the ceiling, wrapped in black plastic. Apparently it was a side effect of the fucked up Bliss that John had been experimenting with (or maybe the series of concussions she _had_ to have at this point), but Rook wasn’t so sure; the Seeds had been in her dreams for a long time. The first couple nights after the bunker had been the worst, with the memories still fresh in her mind and the pain meds for her ribs keeping her under. Then she’d tried avoiding sleep, because at the time it seemed like a better idea, but Sharky noticed the bags under her eyes and threatened to knock her out if she didn’t take a goddamn nap. They’d eventually settled on a few nights of (mildly humiliating) sleepovers, where either Sharky or Hudson would wake her up if she started screaming. Which made it all the more difficult to sleep when they were gone, off having fun without her.

Rook woke covered in sweat the second night after they’d left to rescue Briggs. She’d dreamed that she couldn’t find Hudson in the bunker, and she’d peeled away black plastic from corpses. John Seed watched all the while with his head a crater and antlers protruding from his chest, until she found Hudson, with WRATH carved into her forehead.

Rook wanted to radio someone, hear someone’s voice, but a stupid stubbornness was there. _They’d left her._ She was _fine._ She could deal with some bad dreams herself, goddamnit. She would only make them worry about her- they needed their wits about them, and she could be mopey about her bad dream if it meant that their assault would go off without a hitch.

That didn’t mean she was going to go back to sleep, though. She still saw John Seed’s stupid, smarmy smile every time she closed her eyes.

Rook reached under the mattress, pulled out the tape player. It was truly smashed now- she’d stashed it under her tactical vest after her headphones had broken in the bunker. And of course she was shot at a _lot_ , and the force of a couple bullet impacts had nearly crushed it entirely. Bored, she opened the player, bits of shattered plastic sprinkling out onto her quilt, the tape unfurling into oily black ribbons.

A scrap of paper fell out.

She sat up. Curiously, she unfolded it. Neat, dark handwriting spelled out a number. A frequency. Heart beating quicker, she pulled out her radio, tuned it. Radio silence. _This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea._ She pushed her talk button for a second, let go. If anyone was on the other side, they’d hear the blip.

Silence. Rook flopped back onto her back (ow). Stupid idea. Dumb idea. He wouldn’t be there. It had been weeks since he gave her the tape player. She shouldn’t expect him to be listening at one in the morning. Scratch that- she shouldn’t be on a creepy radio frequency given to her by her enemy. If Sharky, if Hudson knew that she even had this- what the fuck would they think? That she was brain damaged probably, even more compromised than they thought. And if, god forbid, word got out to _Tammy-_ well, she’d been in to her ankles in kiddie pool. The fuck was she doing? Why was she waiting for him to answer? What did she _want_ him to answer?

A small blip of static from the radio.

Rook shot up _(ow)_ , her stomach swooping. Shit. Shit shit shit. This was a bad idea. This was a _very bad idea._ She picked up the walkie again, pressed the talk button, opened her mouth to say _something-_ then backpedalled hard. _The fuck are you doing?_ Stop it.

A sigh from over the radio. “ _Go to sleep, Rook.”_

Rook felt her face grow hot and she had the sudden urge to throw herself out the window. (How _dare_ he sound so casual, like this was normal. This was not fucking normal.) Shit. Shit shit shit.

“ _You_ go to sleep,” she found herself saying back, and immediately faceplanted into her pillow. Oh god. This was terrible. She should shut up right there, throw the entire radio out the window.

She could almost picture his raised eyebrow when the radio buzzed again. “ _What are you doing, Rook?”_

“You’re the one that gave me this number.”

“ _I didn’t think you would use it.”_ Shit. What did that say about her? A minute of silence. “ _How are you doing, Rook?”_

He said her name a lot. ”Funny that you’re asking about my well-being, after everything.” He didn’t respond. “Lot of broken ribs.” Rook paused. “Can’t sleep.”

For a moment she thought he’d ditched the frequency, but then the radio sounded again. ” _I know the feeling_.”

“Of broken ribs?”

A chuckle. “ _Both.”_

Rook picked at a loose thread on the quilt. _What the fuck am I doing?_ She should hate him. But he- he _knew._ He had watched her kill his brother, he gave her what she needed to get Hudson out of the bunker. He knew how she worked. He was the only one that did. And in a way, she _needed_ that, needed just one person to not look at her like she was freefalling without a parachute. “Do the dreams ever go away?”

“ _Not for me.”_

She wondered what he dreamed about. She’d seen the briefing on him, ages ago. Whatever it was, it had to be worse.

She wondered if he slept at all.

* * *

Jacob had nearly forgotten that he’d slipped the frequency into the tape player. A stupid idea on his part. He didn’t know why he did it. But now it was one in the morning, and the spare radio in his pack had given a little burst of static. 

_“I broke your tape.”_

“Rude.” Jacob found himself smirking. Of course she did. She broke nearly everything. ”It took me a long time to find a player, you know.”

Talking to her hurt, in a way. Like a bruise. Deep, constant. More the harder you pushed at it. He looked up through the trees, up at the stars. They’d gotten brighter the longer he’d been in Hope Valley, the light pollution slowly fading. Rook shouldn’t be talking to him. He shouldn’t be talking to her. They- _she_ had maybe two more weeks before Joseph wouldn’t let him hold back any longer. And after that, it would all end for him.

“Is your friend okay?” He found himself asking.

“ _She’s-“_ He could picture her curled up, knees drawn up to her chest. She guarded herself, even when she didn’t realize. “ _She’s better than_ me.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant, not entirely. He knew that his family was destroying Rook. Devouring her whole. He knew that he was partially responsible. This thing with Briggs- it _had_ to work. It had to. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t stop now. If Briggs just gave in, for fuck’s sake-

He hated himself for it. He hated himself for everything.

“ _It’s not too late, Jacob.”_ He thought he’d imagined it at first. Because it didn’t make sense, none of this did.

 _Not too late._ That was a joke. It had been too late for a long, long time. His story was careening toward the ending, and soon enough, Rook was going to write it.

Why did she care? That was the knife that twisted in his gut. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t- _fuck_ , he didn’t deserve to interact with another person like this, like- he didn’t know. She shouldn’t even be talking to him, he shouldn’t be talking to her. Why would she say that? After all he’d done, after all he’d done to _her-_ no. It was too late. She was a fool for… trusting him? Empathizing with him? He didn’t know what the word for it was, the weird mutual understanding that seemed to be building. The feeling that they were somehow two of a terrible, terrible kind. She was a fool for not realizing what he was doing to her.

“ _Why did you give me this frequency, Jacob?”_ She kept saying his name. He didn’t know if she’d ever said it before this.

Talking to her hurt, like a bruise.

“When you hear the music, run,” he found himself saying. “Remember what I told you about it?”

“ _What-“_

“If you hear it and see a friendly face, run.”

“ _What are you-“_

“Go back to sleep, Deputy.” She started to respond, but he clicked off his radio. And buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Rook tried to get him to talk again, but he was gone. She swore, nearly threw the radio across the room.

Go back to sleep? How in the fresh fuck was she supposed to go back to sleep after that? His words were echoing in her head. _If you hear it and see a friendly face, run._ Fuck. Fuck, that couldn’t be good.

Although she wasn’t much better. ‘It’s not too late’? What kind of dumbass fantasy world was she living in? In what world would Jacob Seed walk away from the project? What the fuck did she expect him to say?

And why did she care? Why did it hurt so much that he didn’t reply? She shouldn’t care. She should hate him for everything he did, to her friends, to _her._

But she didn’t. And she didn’t understand why.

* * *

The Grandview Hotel was spooky in a way that the hotel from _the Shining_ was probably spooky, in the sense that he knew horrible things happened there. Instead of ghosts, it was Jacob Seed haunting the place, which was probably scarier. But at least their ghost was gone, speeding off on an ATV with that sick red rifle on his back. Thank sweet baby jesus that Jess had spotted him through a window. If they’d stormed the place at the get go, they would have had to face him head on. If Jacob Seed was the one that trained Dep, Sharky sure as hell didn’t want to have to fight _him._ Nah, instead they waited a little over a day until the big lug left, and then it was go time.

He kept a close eye on Hudson, who crept around with him after they’d cleared it out. Sharky was happy to have Hudson with, but she didn’t have the same… action movie star abilities as Dep had. He was, however, thankful for Dep and Eli’s intel, for mapping out the Chosen’s patrol movements and the layout, and for Jess for rounding up some of the more Katjess-y Whitetails to help them clear the place quietly. Took a hell of a lot longer than storming in, but at least they’d have time to find Eli’s guy before reinforcements came. Hudson had destroyed the alarms, but it would only take a couple radio calls for the Peggies to realize something was up. Jess and the others were already barricading the doors of the hotel, making nests on the upper floors to take out the Peggies as they came running.

Hudson’s eyes were wide, her face pale. Sharky hoped he didn’t look the same. The place was bringing back bad memories. He’d joined Eli the first time- well, more like forced Eli to let him on the squad- and little had changed since them. Blood was still _everywhere_ , in impossible quantities. Blurry photographs of bloodied animals. Antlers fucking _everywhere._ He’d been at the Grandview only one time before, for his second cousin’s wedding, and the place had been log-cabin chic back then. Now it was horror movie murder cabin, straight out of _Evil Dead._ But something seemed… off from before, and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Bare, bloodstained mattresses were still strewn about the upper floors. Dep had said that this was where those who had progressed far into the trials were kept, but it was relatively empty. There was one corpse in a room, a former Hope County citizen who had died in the corner, clutching an untreated bullet wound in their stomach. Flies crept across their blank face. And these were the lucky ones- the fresh “recruits” were kept in cages just outside the hotel, with the Judges. Sharky had seen what seemed like a shoed foot at the edge of one of the Judge cages, after they had taken them out, the rest of the body missing.

It was strange, though. Last time Eli had stormed the place, it had been littered with Whitetail and Hope County bodies- there were only two or three survivors, including Dep, and at least twenty… others. The place was empty in comparison.

“This is where Rook was?” She whispered. She was starting to go from pale to slightly green.

Sharky nodded. He came to a looked room, shoved his shoulder into it. It didn’t budge. He could hear muffled music from inside. “For a good two weeks or so, yeah. Gimme a hand with this?”

Hudson nudged him aside. “That’s super not how you do that. Move.” She took a step back, kicked the edge of the door at the lock with enough power to probably crush someones head in. There was a simultaneous _crack_ and the door burst open, the frame splintered.

“Okay,” Sharky stuttered. He could see why Dep liked her. “Now that was-“

“Shut up.”

Inside the room was who Sharky assumed was probably Briggs, tied to a chair, dried blood scabbed down from his ears. The arms of the chair were stained red, as were his bindings. Next to him was a table with a speaker with an old-fashioned audio tape port. Sharky’s skin crawled. He remembered running into a room after hearing Eli and Wheaty, to see Dep, still tied to a chair on the floor. Surrounded by bodies. Blood trailing from everyone’s ears, eyes. Dep, barely breathing, whispering about the weak, the herd, sacrifice. He prayed that Dep remembered none of it.

Briggs looked up blearily.

“Sacrifice,” he mumbled, and Sharky wanted to smash the stereo to pieces.

Hudson rushed over, taking his head in his hands. “Hey buddy, Briggs- it’s alright, we’re gonna get you out of here-“

“No use,” Sharky muttered, fiddling with the tape player. Feeling numb.

“Sacrifice,” Briggs repeated.

Hudson tried to give him water from the canteen, but the water just dribbled down his chin. He kept staring forward, blankly. Across from him on the wall was a blood-smeared deer skull, complete with antlers. “The fuck did they do to him?”

“Same thing they did to the Deputy.” Sharky popped the old tape from the stereo. It had stopped playing while they’d cleared the place. _Only You_ by the Platters. Not his taste. He crushed it with his foot. “They brainwash you into believing all this cull-the herd mumbo jumbo and run you through the worlds worst obstacle course, over and over, until you’re a killing machine. And basically a puppet for Jacob. You ever see the one Cap movie, _Winter Soldier?”_

Hudson nodded slowly, wiping some of the blood from Brigg’s face. “So this is how Rook became…”

“Basically Bucky, yeah. But like, good Bucky, when he remembers he’s got friends and shit.”

Hudson was quiet for a moment. “You think its all gone? Like, if he gets her again, will she go back to-“

“Being Bucky in _Civil War?_ ” Sharky frowned as he fiddled with the stereo. “Well, we’re not going to let that happen. Over my fuckin’ dead body.” Sharky popped in the counter-tape, the one that Wheaty said would help un-scramble Briggs, and pressed play. Immediately a guitar solo started to shred from the speaker. _Damn, Wheaty._ If Sharky hadn’t sold his soul to the disco gods years ago, this could probably be his shit. In the chair, Briggs curled into himself, groaning.

“ _Stop it- its weak, its weak-“_

“No can do, buddy,” Sharky said, patting his shoulder, though his stomach was twisting. “You’re gonna be out of here likety-split.”

Hudson watched him writhing in the chair. Brigg’s nose started bleeding as he begged him to turn off the music. “Was it like that for Dep?”

Sharky tried not to look at Briggs. “Yeah. Just for the first day or two, then she was a-ok.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she just looked sad. “She’s had a hell of a time.”

Jess’s voice buzzed over the radio. “ _You fuckers know that’s playing on the speakers outside, too, right? It’s fuckin loud as shit-”_

Sharky went to the window to see white trucks coming in from the road. “Well, shit.”

* * *

For the first time in years, Rook went to church.

The citizens of Fall’s End- the ones that were left, anyway- had taken it upon themselves to repaint the entire thing. A brand new shade of white, enough coats to cover the bloodstains. Not that it mattered to Rook, anyway. Every time she looked at it she would see Nick’s blood across the floor, flaps of skin stapled to the archways. Rook shivered when she stepped in, the memories still fresh. She sat in the first pew walking in, closing her eyes to try to block out John Seed’s voice. _It’s only one word._ The pew creaked as Pastor Jerome sat beside her. Not saying anything, but there.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a couple minutes before Rook opened her eyes. One of the stained glass windows was still intact, bathing one of the walls in multicolored light. They really did do a good job at cleaning the place up.

“How terrible does a person have to be,” Rook said slowly, quietly. “so that they can’t be redeemed?”

“Do they want to be redeemed?”

Rook picked at her nails. “I don’t know. I-“ Rook bit at her lip. What was she doing here? She was never one for churches, for faith. It was never her thing, never clicked like it did for other people. But she supposed what she was asking didn’t completely have to do with faith, or God, if they were real. “What if they think they don’t deserve redemption?”

Pastor Jerome sat back, clutching his bible. Rook wondered distantly if it was the one that was hollowed out. “Well,” he said. “They must act in a way that is deserving. They must recognize their past transgr-“ He paused, sighing deeply. “That John Seed,” he muttered.

“Ruins everything, right?” Rook mumbled.

  
“Even now.” Pastor Jerome chuckled. “The words are the same, I suppose, and there’s nothing we can do about that. But a person seeking redemption needs to recognize their past and acknowledge their faults. They need to actively correct their mistakes with good intentions. And they need to accept themselves, and the change that they would go through to do so. It is a long path, and an arduous one.”

Rook nodded, still staring at the stained glass.

“I have a question for you, Deputy, that you may elect not to answer.” He was peering at her with those kind, warm eyes. “Are you speaking of yourself?”

“No.” Rook swallowed. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Pastor Jerome nodded. “I’ve lived with violence all my life, Deputy. I’m no stranger to it, as you know. I’ve lived alongside violence, and it has been with me along my own path to redemption.”

Rook frowned. “How exactly does that work?”

Pastor Jerome laughed. “I’m not entirely sure it does. But I’m trying, I have been learning from my mistakes, and I have been trying to guide others through theirs. It’s a long path, and it doesn’t always make sense. But what matters is effort, and acknowledgement. Does that help?” Apparently Rook was making a face, and the Pastor laughed again.

“Is this your job, giving people vague advice?” Rook asked, good naturedly.

“Did it help, though?”

Rook grumbled, running a hand over her face. “Maybe.”

“What you have asked applies to you, whether you were aware of your intention or not. But that wasn’t your reason for coming here.” He looked at her, open, welcoming. “What is troubling you?”

Rook looked back at him, thought of the pistol hidden in his bible. She couldn’t say it. Pastor Jerome- for all of his priestly ways, or whatever- still was a leader of the Resistance. He would try to understand, she was sure of that, at least. He would never turn her away. But he had other duties as well. Not to mention Hudson and Pratt and the Marshall. She was doing them wrong by trying to help him. She was an insult to everything that they’d been put through by the Seed family.

And it felt like it was wrong for _her_ to even think about it. He was her enemy. She was his prey. The stupid, naïve fantasy where it wasn’t too late was just that. A fantasy.

Rook turned back to the colors, washing over the wall. Reds, yellows, blues. Art made of broken things, pieced into something beautiful. She felt numb. “Being out of action’s giving me too much time in my head,” she said finally. A truth. “I’ve tried to think about what I’m going to do after everything is done, and I- I can’t see it. I can’t see it ever ending.”

Pastor Jerome was silent. “To be honest, I can’t either.”

* * *

Jacob _seethed._ The Grandview was lost. The Grandview was lost, and so was Briggs, his last chance. His last fucking chance at maybe making everything okay, at letting Rook go. At maybe… maybe… ( _staying here a bit longer)…_ his mind felt like it short circuited, bringing him back to reality. No. Just as Joseph said, nothing happened by chance. This was how it was supposed to be, how it was supposed to-

Anger bubbled within him. This was how it was supposed to be. He was weak for thinking it would go any other way. Trying to let the Deputy go, let her stay safe with her friends? It was a fool’s errand. A colossal fuckup on his part, because Briggs was the thing that drew the Whitetails to the Grandview a second time, the reason why he lost it. His weakness was the reason, the sole reason. His fucking fault. And how dare he try to go around Joseph, to speed run Briggs to be the same as the Deputy? A dumb fucking idea. What the fuck was he thinking? Joseph knew everything, controlled every fucking thing in this fucking county. If Joseph wanted the Deputy to suffer, she was going to suffer.

The whiplash of it- that was the worst. It was just the other night that she’d radioed him. He didn’t think she would. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t. He didn’t know what it meant, except that it made everything hurt a whole lot more. He didn’t know why. There was a tiny part of his mind that wanted to go there, to figure out why he wanted the Deputy- goddamnit, she was _Rook_ \- to be alright, to be safe, to be happy with her friends. But he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve that, because he was Jacob Seed, and he had a job to do, whether he wanted to do it or not.

Good Lord, was she going to suffer.


	9. i have seen what the darkness does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hehe

Rook had a habit of staring off. She always had. Give her a length of time, and those dark eyes of hers would go soft, staring off into the distance, her mind someplace else. Hudson wondered where she went. Before- years ago, it felt like- Hudson wondered what she was thinking about. Remembering. Imagining. She didn’t know what, but wondered. Now she didn’t. She didn’t want to know, because instead of going soft, those dark eyes of her went distant, hard. It wasn’t a good place. Hudson knew, because that was where Hudson went too.

A compound. A helicopter. A crash. A truck, her arms tied, a gun to her head. A bunker, a knife to her throat. A bible at her hand, a rebellion, a retort. She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say yes, even as _PRIDE_ was carved across her right arm. A beating, two beatings, too many, so many that she couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t stop herself from saying _yes._

Rook didn’t say yes. Not the way Hudson did. Hudson had tried. tried. She tried so hard, doubled her efforts when she heard what Rook was doing, the chaos she was causing, even if it left _ENVY_ across her left arm. Tripled them when Rook beat her hand bloody against the other side of the bunker door.

And then she didn’t come back. She didn’t come back for a long time.

So Hudson broke. She tried so hard, and then she broke. Like Rook never did. Never would. Hudson had seen the word tattooed across her chest, while she lay sleeping after dragging Hudson from John’s bunker. _WRATH_ , just how John had promised. How he’d made her. Rook had taken the sin of wrath with her bare hands, strangled it and wrangled it until the word was hers. No, she never broke. Not like Hudson had.

The scars, one on each arm, marled and mottled, would always remind Hudson of what she did. How she said yes.

She came back from the Grandview, walked into the Spread Eagle, and found Rook, a beer in her hand. Flannel buttoned loosely, showing the bandages around her entire torso, bandages that were there because of Hudson. Saw her staring off, almost like she used to.

Almost.

Hudson slid into the booth. Rook kept staring out the window, and Hudson almost laughed. Like always, dragging her out of her own head was a passive affair. Mary May quietly brought Hudson a beer as well, waving her hand before Hudson even had the chance to offer any kind of payment. Not that Hudson quite understood the currency around here these days; Hope County was nearly its own country, and bullets were as good as gold.

Hudson made herself comfortable, sipping her beer. Waiting. But also dreading, because she knew Rook wasn’t going to be happy that she was left behind.

Eventually, Rook blinked rapidly, coming back into their world, noticed Hudson with a start, swearing.

”It doesn’t count as sneaking up on you if I’ve been here for five minutes,” Hudson said, not bothering to hide her smirk.

Rook had a habit of hiding herself, folding inward where her shoulders hunched, her head went low, her eyes darted between anyone and everyone. Wary. Like a cornered animal. It had been subtle before, but not anymore. “You went without me.”

Hudson took a breath. Sharky told her- not that she needed to be told, she knew Rook well enough- that Rook would be salty of being left out of the Grandview siege. She was not aware of how much _heat_ was behind her eyes, how she was gripping her bottle tightly. She’d never seen that expression on Rook before, the hostility buried so deep that she doubted Rook even knew it’s strength. It was strange how natural it looked.

“Sorry.” Hudson wasn’t one to be quiet. She never was. She had yelled at John Seed, told him to go fuck himself as he tattooed her arms, _carved_ her arms. She was never one to be quiet. But she didn’t have an answer for Rook, didn’t have much else than a simple apology, because it didn’t really matter. Rook probably figured it out. That she was currently useless. That she was a liability at the Grandview. It wasn’t like they _wanted_ to push a bookshelf in front of her door at the Spread Eagle, but it was a measure they had to take. There was a lot of things she wanted to say, about why they needed to leave her behind for the missions sake, about how Rook needed to leave her behind for both of their sakes, but Hudson didn’t say anything. No, Hudson stayed quiet.

“What was your sin?” Hudson blinked. Rook was staring at her. ( _You pulled a Rookie,_ Staci would have said. But he wasn’t here. Because of those motherfucking Seeds.) Hudson forgot how intense her gaze could be, when she wasn’t staring off in Rook-land.

“What is your sin?” Rook repeated herself, but she was looking away now, eyes flickering anywhere but Hudson.

Hudson started, and stopped herself. “What _were_ my sins,” she corrected. Rook’s eyes now flitted to meet hers, nervous and wary. _Like a cornered animal._ Hudson thought for a moment, then sighed, unbuttoning her shirt, taking it off to leave just the tank top underneath.

If she could show anyone, it was Rook. She pretended not to notice Rook’s face go a shade redder.

“Pride and envy,” Hudson explained quietly. She also pretended to _not_ notice Rooks eyes trace across the blank swatches of scar tissue where John carved away her Atonement. Rook didn’t say anything. Hudson chewed the inside of her cheek, forced herself to continue. “Pride, because I didn’t give in. Envy, because I wished I was you.”

Rook was rigid in her chair, staring. “You don’t want to be me,” she whispered.

“I sure as fuck don’t,” Hudson said, and Rook cracked, her stony expression curling into a confused half-smile. “Your life fucking sucks. But I didn’t want _you_ to have to live it.”

Rook’s eyes narrowed, the smirk fading, tracking her. There really was something different about her, more tactical. Like a hunter. _Like a wolf,_ Hudson thought, and shivered.

Hudson paused, studying her right back. “What do you want me to say, Rook? That I’m sorry? I can’t say that our places were swapped because you know that means absofuckinglutely nothing.”

Rook’s eyes narrowed even further, if possible, and Hudson was almost sure she was about to throw her beer bottle across the room. Instead, she buried her head in her arms.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Hudson froze. “You didn’t.”

“That’s not what you said in the bunker,” Rook mumbled.

Hudson froze, trying to remember. The bunker. Where she almost killed Rook with a knife to her throat. She had been so scared. So fucking scared.

“’I didn’t think you’d come back’,” Rook said, in a stupidly close imitation to Hudson’s voice.

Shit. Shit, that was what she’d said. She had meant it, though. The Rook she knew- _had_ known- wouldn’t have- what? Blown up countless buildings? Destroyed a redneck Hollywood sign? Slaughtered every single living soul in a bunker? A chill went through Hudson’s spine, and she shrugged her shirt back over her shoulders. The Rook she used to know couldn’t have- _wouldn’t_ have done those things. But this was Hope County. Nothing was how it used to be, how it was supposed to be.

“I’m sorry,” Rook said, before Hudson had a chance to reply. Head buried in her arms the whole time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“

“No.” Hudson broke in. “I’m sorry, Rook.” She swallowed. “I went to Grandview. You know that. I know what those fucking Seeds did to you.” One of Rook’s eyes was peering over her forearm from where it rest on the table. “We failed you. Me, and Staci, and Earl, and the Marshall. We should have protected you.. Instead, it was you that was forced to protect us.” Both of Rook’s eyes peered out now. “I’m proud of you. I’m ashamed of myself.” Hudson reached out, grabbed Rook’s hand. The feeling was familiar, comforting, even if Rook started with a fist. Even if Rook took a long moment, a long minute to relax, to accept, to squeeze Hudson’s fingers. “I don’t want you to do this alone anymore. I don’t- and Sharky doesn’t either, and neither does Jess, or Nick.” Hudson was vaguely aware of how hard she was squeezing Rook’s fingers, but Rook didn’t flinch. She never did.

“You’re not mad?” In the moment, Rook sounded childish. Small. She peered out from where she’d hidden her face.

Hudson rested her own head against the worn booth of the Spread Eagle. “I can’t be mad at a Rookie.” She tentatively reached out, tousled Rook’s hair. “You’re still a Rookie. You’re still learning. You’re not going to get Staci back by yourself. I promise you that, Annie.”

A defeated groan from the pile that was Rook. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

Hudson shifted, enveloped Rook and her buried head, her cinched-tight silhouette over the booth. Held her close, folded her arms under Rook’s. Felt her shaky breath, felt her heartbeat quicken, just so slightly. “I would’ve said yes.”

Beneath her arms, Rook shifted. “What?”

“If you’d asked me out, back then.” Hudson could feel her face burning, and she praised god that Staci wasn’t hearing this. “I knew the moment that you walked in the door that you had a massive fucking crush on me. I would’ve said yes.”

Rook buried herself further. “That was a long time ago.”

“Considering everything, yes.” Hudson felt Rook settle beneath her, and she rested her head on Rook’s shoulder, folder her arms around her back.

Rook’s face was still pressed against the table. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not the same. I- I’m not the same.”

“I know.”

Rook was warm, her borrowed shirt soft. “You know I would never have had the balls to do it.”

“Yeah.”

They stayed like that for a while. Rook laying against the table. Hudson, resting atop of her.

“We could have been happy,” Hudson mused, quietly. So that only she and Rook could hear, so that she and Rook would ever hear.

“We could have.”

“We could find an abandoned cabin. We could find a bunker. We could live there until it all blows over.” Hudson knew this was false, even as the words left her mouth.

Rook was silent. “I’m too far gone,” she said, after a while. “I’m too far gone.”

* * *

Jacob didn’t get many visitors. He prided himself in being vigilant, but when it came to visitors, they were always a surprise. He especially wasn’t expecting his ‘sister’ to come in sweeping to St. Francis, bringing a whirl of sickly sweet florals with her.

“You’ve been quiet lately, brother,” she said, drumming her fingers against the wood of his doorway as she leaned.

He ran a hand over his face. Faith. He was very much not in the mood to deal with her and her little tricks. “Or maybe you’re just realizing how quiet I’ve been the whole time now that John isn’t screaming into the radio at all hours.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” She entered his office, light and on her tiptoes, looking around at the notes pinned to the wall. ”I don’t miss him as much as I thought I would. I think… I’ve been starting to see that his Path was twisted and messy. People shouldn’t be forced onto the Path, you know?” She looked over her shoulder at him, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling sweetly. “And he was awfully mean to the Deputy.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here, Faith?”

She twirled in place, thinking, then sat on his desk. Kicked her legs lightly. “I was just wondering how the Deputy is doing, that all.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He answered too quickly, and Faith knew it.

“Wouldn’t you?” She stuck out a lip, pouting. “She clearly likes you the most. She won’t even talk to me.”

Jacob sighed. “Did Joseph send you?”

She shrugged. “Just a little. He wanted to point out that the Deputy cleaned up two of your outposts in the past week, in case you didn’t notice.” He had. “And said something about bringing her home. So are we going to have another sister yet?”

“No.” It felt as if Joseph was standing over Faith’s shoulder, whispering in her ear while watching him through his golden glasses.

She hummed. “Shame. I think you two are really good together- really dark and broody-“

Jacob sighed. He really didn’t want to deal with this, much less hear about how him and Rook ‘would be good together’. Because that was a fantasy, and would be doomed from the start anyway. ( _but you have thought about it, and it hurt like a bruise)_ “Why are you _here_ , Faith?”

“Because I want to talk to my brother.” She frowned, her eyes far away. ”We used to be so much closer, like a real family. And coming here forced us all far away from each other. I miss my brothers.” She cocked her head. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes.”

Faith huffed, hopping down from his desk. She wandered around the perimeter of the room, poking at the string spread across his notes. “I just want people to be happy. That includes you, and that includes the Deputy. If you could be happy together, it would be all the better.”

“I don’t think the Deputy enjoys the way you make people happy, Faith.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “It’s just a nudge. A little push toward the path. Some people don’t believe they can be happy, and the Bliss shows them how. It worked for the Deputy’s friend- the Marshall is very happy that I showed him how to be happy.” She turned suddenly, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “Say, how is the Deputy’s other friend? The one she rescued from the bunker?”

Jacob paused. “Fine, I think?”

“Kind of romantic, right? Like a knight in shining armor, charging into the dragon’s lair to save the princess.” She thought for a moment, watching him, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Maybe _I’ll_ have a chance with the Deputy too.” She read something on his face, and burst into a giggle. “I’m kidding! Don’t worry, brother.” She poked him in the shoulder, smiling. “You get first dibs.”

“Out.”

She pouted, but twirled toward the door. “Just _think_ about giving it a chance, Jacob. You _deserve_ to find happiness.” _I don’t._ She paused in the doorway, peeking her head back in. Her smile was gone. “Joseph is coming in three days, brother.”

 _Three days._ He held back a curse. _Joseph is coming in three days._ It wasn’t a suggestion, or an invitation. It was a warning. Three days until it would all be over.

“Brother?” She was still there, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Is the Deputy going to be alright?”

 _Like a bruise._ He swallowed. Probably not. ‘Make her suffer’ was what Joseph wanted. “The Deputy is resilient. She’ll make it through.”

Faith nodded. “Are _you_ going to be alright?”

Jacob blinked. ( _He wouldn’t.)_ “I- yes, Faith.“

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” She smiled sadly at him. “I _do_ care about you, brother.”

Jacob sighed. “I won’t, Faith.”

“Okay.” She turned to leave, but peeked just the top of her head back in, back to cheerful. “I’m going to pretend you said you care about me too, because I know you do _deep_ down, and you just think you’re too broody to say it.”

Jacob groaned, and she left him alone with the knowledge that in three days, everything would be over.

* * *

It didn’t seem like a big deal when the car radio switched from Creedence Clearwater Revival to “Set Those Sinners Free”, it was just annoying at first. But Sharky should have noticed how the Deputy started sweating after Wheaty called in over radio.

” _Hey guys, just a heads up- lost control of the radio stations. Wheaty Pirate Radio offline for now.”_

Sharky wasn’t concerned at the moment. They were en route to bust up another outpost, far in the the corner of the Whitetails. Total bitch to get to, all twisty mountain roads. He was pretty sure they weren’t lost. Just a really long dirt road, barely wide enough for two cars to pass by, with a high treeline on either side. “You mean we’re stuck with Peggy shit?”

_“Yeah, damn Peggies got control of everything. Gonna see if I can solve it from my end before I send you guys up the towers again.”_

“Ten-four, buddy.”

“ _Shit- something--- ppenin—you guys--- ell---”_

Sharky hit his radio against the armrest a couple times, trying to break up the static. Because hitting things usually knocked things right, it was a law of electronics. “Hello? Wheaty?”

“--- _ve it----"_

Dep was hunched over the old beat up car stereo, pressing the buttons. Tense. Filing through the stations, which all played the same song. Telling them how Jacob was gonna come and set them free. (In Sharky’s opinion, one of their better tracks.)

“Give it a rest, Dep,” Jess grumbled from the backseat. “I’ll listen to the Peggie shit if it means I don’t have to listen to Sharky mouth breathing.”

She kept pressing buttons. Nothing changed. Sharky glanced over. Dep’s face was white as a sheet. “Dude, you good?”

“Something’s wrong,” she mumbled, still clicking. She’d probably gone through the entire station list, started over. Just kept clicking through. Her hand was shaking. “Somethings wrong…”

Hudson reached forward from the back, tapped Dep’s arm, trying to stop her. Dep shrugged her off. “Hey Rook, just turn it off, alright-“

The song that had been playing faded out. Dep was frozen, finger paused over the station change, breath held. Waiting, the color draining from her face entirely. 

“ _This one goes out to the Deputy, wherever you are,”_ Joseph Seed said. _“See you soon.”_

Only the first two notes of the next song made it out before Dep put her fist through the radio.

“ _Holy fuck, dude-“_ Jess was grabbing her arm now, and Dep wrenched out her grip, holding her fist, breathing hard. Shards of broken plastic plinked to the floor of the truck.

“Sharky stop the car-“ Dep whispered through gritted teeth. Her knuckles were bleeding. She kept wiping the side of her head with her sleeve. “Sharky, _please stop the car stop the car now-“_

“Rook, you’re bleeding-“

Everyone was talking over each other. “Dude, what-“

“ _Stop the fucking car, Sharky-“_ Static buzzed over the radios at their hips, and the song continued, cutting her off.

_Only you…_

There was a brief alert chime for an unbuckled seatbelt and suddenly Hudson and Jess were screaming and Dep was gone, the passenger door bouncing closed after her as trees whipped past.

“ _Fuck-“_ Sharky slammed on the brakes, nearly sending himself (on second thought, maybe he should start wearing a seatbelt) through the windshield. In the rearview mirror, the Dep tumbled, rolled to a stop at the edge of the road, arms protecting her head.

“ _Rook? Rook-“_

… _can make this world seem right…_

Sharky slammed the car door behind him, running toward her. He’d left his radio in the car, but the song still played, echoing against the cliffs, through the trees. As if the music was coming from the mountain itself.

“It’s the damn wolf calls!” Jess yelled, getting out of the truck. “He- what the _fuck-“_

… _only you…_

Dep was on her hands and knees ahead of him. She pushed herself up shakily, knees and elbows bloodied. She stumbled, holding her head. A trickle of blood came from her ear.

“Dep!” Sharky called, running toward her.

… _can make the darkness bright…_

The was nothing in her eyes as she reached, pulling her bow from her back, no hesitation as she drew and released.

The arrow hit Sharky in the shoulder. The impact and shock of it knocked him backward onto his ass. He couldn’t breathe for a minute, his mind replaying the jolt, the feeling of something hitting his body and going through. His fingers touched where the shaft met his body, the area growing hot- it didn’t feel real-

She shot him. _She shot him._

Dep stumbled again, doubling over, a strangled cry escaping through her teeth. Her knuckles were white against her bow, everything tensed, pulled tight.

… _only you, and you alone…_

“ _Rook!”_ Hudson and Jess were running up. Sharky wanted to yell back at them, tell them to stop because something was horribly, terribly wrong, but he was still fucked up about the fact that _Dep shot him._

With what almost seemed like an audible snap, Dep straightened, face slack, nocking another arrow, eyes dead again. Blood was running from her nose as well as her ears now. She drew, the arrow aimed toward Hudson, and doubled over again at the same time she loosed, letting out a ragged scream. The arrow shattered against asphalt at Hudson’s feet, stopping them in their tracks.

Hands gripped under Sharky’s armpits and Jess was pulling him back toward the truck. “Hudson, we gotta _go-“_ She yelled. 

Dep dropped the bow, and fell to her knees, curling in on herself. Her whole body shook as she tried to breathe, but it sounded like she was being crushed. Her hands were claws digging into her arms, like she was trying to keep herself from coming apart. She managed to look up, seeing them approaching, and mouthed something silently to herself. Blood dripped from her chin, was smeared across her cheeks. She scrambled backward, terrified, toward the treeline.

… _can thrill me like you do…_

“Fucking hell,” Jess mumbled, dropping Sharky. He hit the dirt, looking up to see that Jess had tackled Hudson to the ground. Hudson was writhing under her, trying to break free while Jess pinned her arms behind her back. “Let her _go_ -“

“ _Rook!”_ Hudson was screaming, the noise swallowed by the forest, by the song broadcast throughout the mountains.

When Sharky looked back toward the trees, Dep was gone. Swallowed whole by the trees.

… _and fill my heart with love…_

“ _ROOK!”_ Jess was pulling Hudson to her feet, even though she was still pulling against her. “ _ROOK!”_

“Let her go,” Jess had wrapped both arms around her, pulling back toward the truck. On the ground, sSarky grabbed the arrow shaft and gave it an experimental tug, which immediately proved to be a bad idea. “We can’t do anything, and we need to get out of here.”

“ _We can’t leave her,”_ Hudson had stopped fighting, but was gripping at Jess’s hands with white knuckles. “I can’t leave her-“

“She needs us to leave her.” Jess’s face was stormy. “That’s Jacob’s shit, she can’t fight it for long. I’ve seen it before Hud. You haven’t. We go after her, she’ll kill us.”

“ _We can’t leave her-“_

“We go after her, she’ll kill us.” Jess stated it plainly. “She held out as long as she could. Where she’s heading there’s gonna be a lot of Chosen, and we need to help Sharky.”

Hudson now noticed the arrow sticking out of his shoulder, the red stain that was spreading down his sweatshirt. _Dep, you gotta stop doing this to my clothes,_ he thought vaguely. “Oh god. Oh god oh god.” Her eyes were wide with shock. 

“It’s probably fine,” Sharky said. His voice felt far away. “Just a paper cut. Slap a bandaid on it.”

… _for only you._

He stood up, probably far too quicky, and he passed out.


	10. say goodbye to who i was

She wouldn’t wake up.

Joseph was the one to call her home. Watched the wildlife cameras to see the truck head into the woods, in the range of the wolf calls. Called for the radio takeover, pressed play. Watched as Rook jumped out of a moving car, shot her friend. Destroyed herself.

It wasn’t how Jacob wanted it to happen. But he sat aside his brother, sensing him smiling as they watched Rook trek her way toward them, toward the Veteran’s Center. Jacob remained calm. He had to.

He honestly wasn’t sure what would happen if he didn’t.

Eventually she collapsed about a mile out, so he called for his Chosen to go grab her. They carried her in. She was conscious in a way, but blank-stared and whimpering, blood trailing from her ears, her nose, her eyes. Her shoulder was hanging strangely, but she barely made a noise when he popped it back in again. But he swore that she recognized him in whatever stupor she was in, and it destroyed him.

He stayed calm.

“Good work, Jacob,” Joseph had said. He reached, bringing Jacob’s forehead to his, as he always did. It didn’t feel the same. It hadn’t for a while. “Your attack dog came when called, and she has one job left before Faith can truly show her the path.” Joseph was staring into his eyes, and Jacob almost couldn’t meet them. “She will be part of our family. Excellent work, Jacob.”

He stayed calm when she passed out entirely, when his Chosen tossed her in a cell. She hit the ground like a ragdoll, and didn’t move.

She didn’t move for a long time. Two days passed, and she didn’t move from where they had left her.

“Call me if she wakes up.” Joseph had said dismissively, and left.

Jacob was in her cell immediately, sitting her up against the bars. She was limp in his hands, If she wasn’t burning with fever, he would’ve thought she was dead. He whispered her name, patting at her cheek gently, but there was no response. He did this. This was his fault. His head dropped until it was his forehead against hers. This was his fault, and it was only going to get worse. It was only going to get worse.

When he turned, Pratt was staring at him. Rigid, emotionless, just as Jacob molded him to be. Rook had fought. She’d fought like hell, putting as much distance between her and her friends as she could, just like he told her. Before she gave in. Pratt was staring at him, at Rook. The same stare that Rook had in the wildlife cameras as she hiked toward him.

It was his fault.

Pratt stared.

He stayed calm. 

* * *

Rook dreamed of arrows. She dreamed of arrows, and wolves. Arrows, wolves, and a crowbar. Of antlers, of plastic wrapped bodies.

Consciousness came to her slowly, and she didn’t rise to meet it. She was tired, so tired. She tried to get up, not entirely aware of her body yet. Found herself falling over onto her side, hitting dirt. There was a shout in the background, the sound of voices. She didn’t really mind. She wasn’t going to get up anytime soon.

She dreamed again. Arrows, and radios and blood.

She woke with a start this time, tasting dirt and iron, and everything was in sharp focus again. The sound of barking dogs, the smell of blood and meat. She was cold. Her throat was dry. She saw a cup sitting at the edge of the cage (a cage- she was in a cage). She crawled to it- she felt all too heavy, all too light at the same time- and drank. She tried to steady herself with her right arm, but there was a strange, familiar stiffness to it. She lost balance, felt herself falling over again, but gentle hands pulled her upright, helping her rest forward, head pressed against the bars of the cage. The hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place.

“I know you’re in pain,” a voice said. Familiar. They brushed her hair out her her face, rubbed a bit of grime from her cheek. Helped her with the water. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh.”

She knew the voice, and flinched backward involuntarily, the cup splashing, but a hand was still on her shoulders, squeezing ever so slightly as to cause a shock of pain to travel up the side of her neck, so she stayed. The last time she had seen him was at her baptism, and she immediately felt water on her face, an echo of his brother John. She struggled, trying to break toward the surface, and the hand on her shoulder squeezed again, and the pain shifted John’s face back to Joseph’s. He smiled thinly, knowingly. Feeling panic rising in her throat, Rook tore her eyes away from Joseph Seed, tore herself away from John’s ghost, and saw Jacob a few paces behind him, with an expression she’d never seen on him before. Eyes wide. Jaw tensed.

Scared.

Joseph nudged her head, gentle and forceful at the same time, so she stared into his eyes. She didn’t like staring into his eyes. It was as if he was examining her from the inside out, reading her soul. He made her skin crawl, her stomach turn, but she couldn’t look away. There was something calming about him, heavy about him, that made her want to relax, to listen, to give in. An instinct at the back of her head resisted, told her he was a predator, a trap, a poison, but she was so tired. Water lapped at her shoulders, her neck, slowly rising.

“Shhh.” He ran a hand over her hair. “You’re not the only one to be tested.” Rook felt something wet at her face, and became vaguely aware that she was crying. “Did you know that I had a wife?” His voice was soothing, a whisper through grass. Pulling her in, and she didn’t want to go. “That’s a story I will tell you someday, when you’re ready. But you have a job to do, my child. Your test is not over, not yet. Shhh. It’s alright. It will be over soon.”

“Brother,” Jacob said. His voice allowed Rook to break out of the stare, reminded her she wasn’t at the river. The minute fear he showed moments ago was gone, replaced with his usual stony exterior. They had the same eyes, Rook realized. John, too. “Let the Deputy rest. She needs her strength up if she’s going to finish her duty.”

A muscle at Joseph’s jaw twitched, and he turned his head slowly. “The Deputy has had plenty of _rest,”_ he said smoothly. Everything he did was smooth, deliberate. “Don’t you think?”

“I think that the only one here that would be able to do physically what only she can” (Rook flinched, a wave of headache crashing over her, too-familiar words breaking through) “would be me or Peaches, and neither of us are in any position to do so.” Jacob stepped forward, intense. Rook felt herself starting to slip away again, and the voices were distant, hard to make out. Garbled, underwater. “I am good at what I do, brother. Two days. We can wait two days longer.”

“Tomorrow.”

Jacob clenched his jaw, eyes flickering toward her. “Tomorrow.”

Joseph smiled thinly, turning back toward Rook. She tried to keep her eyes open, but it was useless.

“Sleep well, Deputy.”

It felt as if she had only closed her eyes for a second. Someone had leaned her in a sitting position against the back of the cage now. Her shoulder was cold, stiff- she looked down to see it tied tight against her chest, an ice pack pressed against the joint. She tried to remember what had happened to her, but it was as if someone had twisted her memories. All she was getting was vague sensations- the feeling of a bow in her hand, the taste of dirt in her mouth, the most intense pain she had ever felt < _her skull caving in >_, familiar voices screaming. A calloused, steady hand was at the back of her head, propping it up. Something was at her lips.

“Drink.” Jacob’s voice was low, a certain change in tone that she couldn’t quite place. She did. Some kind of chicken broth. He pressed some small orange tablets to her hand. “Not painkillers, just ibuprofen. It’s gonna be over soon, Rook. You’ve done well.”

Rook pushed him away, feeling small, childish. She wanted to go home. She wanted Hudson, and Sharky- when she thought of his face, a sickening dread washed over her. She couldn’t figure out why, there was something she needed to remember, something she didn’t want to remember. “What- what’s going on-“

“Come on, Deputy. You need your strength.” She tried to push him away, and he caught her wrist. Something flashed across her mind- the feeling of a bow in her hands- _her_ bow, her muscles tensing as she drew back an arrow. Sharky’s face, eyes wide with surprise. She struggled weakly in Jacob’s grip, feeling herself whimper. “Stop it. I trained you better than this.” His face came into focus, and it was cold, stern.

An immature stubbornness started to leak into her. “No. This isn’t- what’s _happening-_ “

He clenched his jaw. Something about him was changing rapidly, hardening. Like he’d made a split second, stalwart decision. “Classical conditioning, Deputy. The song. _Only you…”_ Just the two notes made Rook’s vision go red, and his fingers dug into her wrist as she uselessly pushed against him. Her memories started clearing. The radio, plastic shattering under her fist. The feeling of weightlessness as she threw herself from the car. Loosing the arrow, watching Sharky hit the ground. The music guiding her the entire time, _forcing_ her in a way it hadn’t before. The sharp, stabbing pain when she tried to resist.

Jacob paused, leaving her with the ghost of a headache, waited for her to catch her breath. “It’s been training you, telling you what to do the whole time. How to hunt. How to kill.” His voice grew icy, sharp. She hadn’t heard his voice like that since the Cook. “How to cull the herd, Deputy. And you’ve done it well. You even sought me out yourself, like a good little soldier. Hoo-rah.”

Rook felt something in her sinking. She was stupid. She was so goddamn stupid. “You’re a liar.“ A desperate accusation. Because there was something different about Jacob, different from John, that gave her pause. Something that wouldn’t let her hate him like she did John, something that she didn’t want to kill. 

He smiled at her, all teeth. “On the contrary, Deputy, I think I’ve been quite honest. Maybe it was you, who lied to your friends. Did you tell them about the tape? Did they know that through every step of your warpath, that it was me alongside you the whole time? My training. My music. My conditioning.” His teeth were sharp. “On the other hand, it was your arrow.”

Her vision was blurry, and she blinked away tears. “Why are you doing this-“

His stare drilled into her. “I cull the herd,” he said, enunciating. “It’s what I do. You have been a tool to do just that, and you will finish the job tomorrow. And it will all be over.”

Rook stared, feeling wetness on her cheeks. Something was wrong. An instinct, some kind of gut feeling was telling her that something was wrong, something was _different_. That even if everything he was saying was true, it wasn’t everything. That there was more to it, that- that their conversations weren’t just deception and conditioning, that there was some other side of him that he was burying deep. He was guiding her away from the truth.

“Tell me,” she pleaded. She wasn’t even sure exactly what she meant, but the ice cracked just a little bit. The slightest furrow of brow.

“You don’t know anything,” he said with finality, standing. He nodded toward the tin bowl of broth, the bottle of water. “Drink up. Don’t make me force you, Deputy.”

“ _Rook,”_ she corrected, and it shouldn’t have mattered. She could feel something chipping away. She met his eyes one last time, and he looked away. “Tell me.”

But he just stood, hands clenching into fists, before he turned and left, closing the cage door behind him.

* * *

“I don’t understand what Rook hated about bed rest,” Sharky grumbled, waiting for Hudson to change the VCR tape. “Like, a) why be in more pain than you need to be and b) it’s like a mini vacation.”

“I am fully going to slap you on your shoulder hole if you don’t shut up,” Hudson grumbled. “Why in the fresh hell do you have so many VHSs anyway?”

She knew he was grinning, even if her back was turned. “Blockbuster had a really great closeout sale. Paid next to nothing.”

“Next to nothing, or fully nothing because it was nighttime and the store was technically closed?”

“A lady never tells.”

Hudson huffed. If this was Rook, she would have maybe played along with the whole bed rest for two days. Three, tops. She felt the dread start creeping into her. It had been eight days. Eight days since they’d seen Rook, since she’d jumped out of a moving car and ran into the woods. Eight days since they’d left her. Since they let her go.

 _There’s nothing we can do,_ Jess had kept saying to her on the drive home. _She would have killed us._

Hudson pushed the thought away. It wouldn’t help her to get Rook back, to sit there and worry. (She did. She worried. She worried so much, she thought of Rook in a bloodstained room, Rook duct taped to a swivel chair with blood trailing from her ears. She worried.) Rook was stronger than any of them. Honestly, she would probably find her way back to them first. It was nearly just a waiting game now.

“Hud? Is it like, a thing for all you deputies to get all spacey all the time?” She could see why Rook liked him. He had a way of sensing when you were going to a dark place, pulling you out of it. She wondered how often he had to do that for her. She didn’t answer, and he pressed. “You know she’s going to come back. She’s like the possum that used to live under my trailer, but like, in a good way.”

She sighed. (She worried.) “I know.”

Wheaty poked his head in, a puzzled look on his face. “Hey Deputy?”

Hudson flinched. Rook was the Deputy, not her. “’Hudson’’s fine.”

“Shit. Sorry. Anyway.” He was speaking quickly, anxiously. “Can you come to the cam room quick? Need you to check something.”

“What is it?”

Wheaty’s brow furrowed. “Well, I think it’s one of _your_ guys-“

Hudson brushed past him before he could finish what he was saying. She sprinted through the maze that was the Wolf’s Den (no matter how many times she would go through it, she could never find her way) until she found the cam room, the stacks of small TVs connected to the wildlife cameras throughout the mountains. Most were blurry, just showing trees, shadows… her eyes flitted from screen to screen. _There_. It was blurry, but she knew the uniform.

“Where is this?” Hudson poked at the screen, as if it would give way, let her touch Pratt’s slumped form. “Where is it?”

Wheaty had only just caught up to her. “It’s- fuck, lemme find a map-“

Hudson squinted, trying to make out details from the pixels, cursing under her breath. She couldn’t see shit in the camera. Couldn’t see if he was breathing, or hurt, or if Rook was with him- fuck. If he was here- where was Rook? Rook must have gotten him out, somehow. She had said that Jacob was keeping him like a little pet; no one else could have gotten him out, no one else would have had the balls to even try it. So if he was there, where was she?

Wheaty shoved a map into her arms, a trail circled in Sharpie. Hudson was already moving, studying the map as she strode toward the exit. “You’re going to have to go by ATV, a tree is blocking the road here- Hudson, wait-“

She stopped in a huff, spinning on her heel. “What the fuck is it, Wheaty?”

He stumbled backward. “Shit, Hudson, calm down. It might be a trap.”

“Do I look like I fucking care if it’s a trap?”

“Good point,” he said, and she turned again to find Jess leaning in the hallway, arms crossed. Staring at her expectantly from under her hood.

“If you fucking tell me to chill I will end your life,” Hudson grumbled. What the fuck was with these people?

Jess shrugged, snorted. “Bitch, I was just gonna ask where we were going. But if you’re gonna be like this, I’ll tell you to chill. Just try to fight me.”

Hudson felt her face go hot, and she pushed the map into Jess’s arms as she stormed toward the ladder. She didn’t know where she was going anyway.

Hudson’s mind was everywhere and nowhere as they sped along the dirt paths, Jess in the lead. _Pratt._ Fuck, it had been so long since she’d seen the little shithead. From what Rook had mentioned, Jacob had put him through the ringer, made him his little pet. If it wasn’t such a fucked up situation, Hudson might’ve joked that he deserved it. Fuck. If there was anything wrong with him ( _if he was like Rook)_ she was going to wring Jacob’s neck with her bare fucking hands. The only one allowed to give Pratt shit was her.

Hudson almost didn’t see the red lights of Jess’s ATV as she slowed to a stop, and skidded to an abrupt halt. Jess looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. “What is it with you all and just not paying attention? It’s going to get you fucking killed someday.”

“Sorry,” Hudson grumbled, clambering off the seat.

Jess took her bow from her back. “The spot’s up ahead. I was gonna make a quick check to make sure it’s not a trap, but something tells me you don’t give a shit.” Hudson huffed, unloading her shotgun from the ATV, and Jess rolled her eyes. “Alright, cool. I’ve got your six then. But if I say the word, we’re booking it.”

She almost didn’t even see him, at first. The green of his deputy uniform, dappled with rusty stains, had blended into the forest. He sat slumped against a tree, his head forward, his hair grown long and falling in his face.

Hudson ran over before she could stop herself, skidding to her knees in front of him, lifting his head up. A soft moan escaped his lips. The little shithead. This little fucker… making her _worry_ , being all fucked up like this. Oh, she was going to chew him out later, she was going to talk so much shit-

“Pratt,” Hudson said, holding his face with two hands. “Pratt, if you don’t fucking open your eyes I’m going to kill you.”

One of his eyes was swollen shut with artfully layered bruises, but the other twitched, opening just a little. “Wha-“ She was going to fight him. As soon as he was less messed up, she was going to punch him in his goddamn face. The little bit of pupil flitted over the surroundings, eventually settled on her. “Joey?”

Hudson choked. She couldn’t figure out why she was laughing, or why she seemed to be crying. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, you _asshole.”_

“ _Ow-“_ He groaned, as Hudson wrapped her arms around him. Little weakling, she was barely even squeezing. “Where am I-“

“In the middle of the fucking woods.”

He pushed against her suddenly, trying to sit up. “Jacob-“

“He’s not here.”

He didn’t stop struggling. “No, I have to- where is he- he _left me-_ let me _up-“_

 _He left me._ He. Not she. Not Rook. _Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Help him._

Hudson pushed his shoulders against the tree, feeling bones press against her hands where there had used to be muscle. Pratt’s eyes were wide, scrambling all over the forest, searching. His breathing was short, shallow, quick. _Like a cornered animal._ Hudson’s chest tightened. The Pratt she knew… Jacob had taken him. Pratt was- had been confident, cocky. This… this wasn’t him. _No._ Hudson’s stomach began sinking, deep. _Not you too._ “Staci. _Staci._ Listen to me. You’re not following his orders anymore.” She remembered Briggs, begging, repeating the same things over and over. “You’re _strong._ You passed the trials. Got it? You’re not there anymore, you’re safe. No… culling or sacrifice. You’re with me, and you did well. Okay?”

He stopped struggling, but his gaze kept darting everywhere, everywhere but Hudson’s face. “Where’s Rook?”

Hudson’s heart skipped a beat. “Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

He looked at her finally, the white of his eyes all around. “She-“

“Where is Rook, Staci?” She didn’t mean for her voice to be so hard, but she had to know. She had to know.

“At-“ His brow furrowed, like he was trying to remember. Hudson had seen Rook make that same expression, like she was searching her mind after someone had went in and messed everything up. “At the Veteran’s Hospital.” He looked up again, desperate. “You can’t go there, Hud. You can’t go there- you-“ He swallowed, trying to push through. “Joseph’s there- Joseph’s there, and he’s waiting for her- he’s waiting for Rook-“

“He’s waiting for her?” Hudson’s heart was racing. Waiting for her? Like she wasn’t there? If she wasn’t at the Veteran’s Hospital- the place was a fucking fortress, they’d never get in, especially not with Joseph there- if Rook _wasn’t there,_ maybe they had a chance.

“Joseph is waiting for her,” Pratt said, slumping. “For her to wake up.”

* * *

Hudson paced.

She paced when they got back to the Wolf’s Den, got Pratt to some medical attention. He’d been through hell, just like the rest of the ones they’d gotten back from Jacob. Bruises layered upon bruises. An endless repeating mantra of sacrifice, of culling, of weakness. Hudson stayed out of the room until he fell asleep. As much as he had been a big personality (kind of a douche, honestly), that was gone now, and all Hudson could think of when she saw it was Rook coming back to them as an empty shell. She was- as much as she didn’t want to admit it- so fucking _relieved_ that this little shithead was back, and she was going to make sure Jacob would pay for it. But now he was safe with them, and it only served as a reminder that Rook was still gone.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” Sharky said in a low voice.

“What the fuck did he mean,” Hudson mumbled. “’Waiting for her to wake up’? What kind of cryptic bullshit was that?”

“Their shit fucks with their heads,” Jess said simply, picking at her fingernails with a broken arrowhead. “First time we got Rook back, she was out for days.”

“Reset button,” Sharky offered.

“And why now?” Hudson chewed at her cheek. “It was too easy. It was too easy, right? To just find him in the woods? Pratt said that Jacob left him. I mean, Rook had to come and get _me._ Faith doesn’t seem to be keen on letting the Marshall go.”

“Maybe Jacob didn’t have any use for him anymore,” Sharky offered.

Jess shook her head. “Not his thing. Either you get made into a Chosen or you die. Or escape, like Rook. Jacob doesn’t let you go.”

Hudson paced. Something didn’t feel right, and she couldn’t put a finger on it. Or she did, but she didn’t want to.

Sharky said it. It was always Sharky that would say it.

“He’s a gift.” His eyes were narrowed, serious, and he scratched at his cheek. Hudson hadn’t known him long, but she hadn’t seen that kind of look on him before. She stopped pacing.

“A gift,” Hudson repeated. No, not quite. “An apology.”

Jess looked back and forth between the two of them. “Bullshit.”

A gift, an apology.

Hudson paced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because no one asked, a gift, an apology:   
> Rook: This Is Not Who I Want To Be- Joanna Sternberg /// Keep The Streets Empty For Me- Fever Ray /// Looking for Knives- DYAN /// With Arms Outstretched- Rilo Kiley /// Dark Turn Of Mind- Gillian Welch /// Tongues & Teeth- The Crane Wives /// Blood In The Cut (Seattle Sessions)- K.Flay


	11. i ain't ever been away so long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who has been leaving kudos and comments so far! really helps justify the ~60k i've written for this so far in complete ignorance of my thesis
> 
> also: oops :)

The final trial began like it always did. With the music, the color red flooding her vision. The certainty. How the pistol in her hand felt _right._ If a conscious part of her mind was screaming that this was Jacob’s doing, that every kill, every shot was _him_ , Rook didn’t care. She was too tired to fight it anymore.

The final trial ended it a way it never had. Rook raised her firearm- which one it was at this point, it didn’t matter- fired into her final target. Like she always did. But her vision didn’t go dark as her bullets entered her target, she didn’t hear Jacob’s voice at the back of her mind, telling her she did well.

Her target froze, falling backward, arms outstretched. A simple, red hole in their forehead. Her target remained frozen like a statue, and she was allowed to see what she had done.

Rook had never seen surprise on Eli’s face. It didn’t suit him.

It was this point where it almost didn’t hurt anymore, and everything was clear. The sickening dread was there, always there, but it didn’t bother her. She understood what it was all for, the bunkers, the trials. The Wolf’s Den control center was around her, frozen in ice. It was all leading up to this. She had a job to do, and she’d done it. The pistol in her hand told her so, the surprise on Eli’s face. The blossom of red spatter on the wall behind him.

A presence was behind her, making the hairs at the back of her neck stand up, but she couldn’t move, could only stare down the sights of her sidearm, to the dark stain on Eli’s shirt. A large arm reached around her, folded over her hand, and guided her arm down gently. She knew the touch. Callused. Steady.

His voice was soft.

“It’s not worth anything, but I’m sorry. I tried to put it off for as long as possible. My brother… he has plans for you, and he was angry…”

The music began playing in the background, and Rook’s stomach swooped out of reflex, waiting for everything to go red and bloodthirsty again, but it didn’t. Nothing happened, and ‘Only You’ by the Platters simply played. His hand was still on hers, and he spun her around gently, breaking whatever had frozen her. His other hand found the small of her back, and he pressed her close, slowly swaying to the music. And it almost felt normal, it almost felt right.

Rook pressed her head into his shirt. Smelled smoke and metal, felt the roughness of his palm, his steady hand at her back. It couldn’t be real, it didn’t make sense, but it _felt_ real. It felt real, and she realized she hated him for what he made her into, hated him for what he made her do, but somehow she pressed her face into his chest and felt safe. She was vaguely aware of how hard she was squeezing his hand, but he squeezed right back. It didn’t make sense.

“I’ve lived alongside violence all my life.” His voice was a deep rumble in his chest. He was taller than her, and his breath tickled her hair .“It’s been with me even longer than my brothers have. I’ve always been good at it, too. Made a career out of it. And the whole time, I told myself that the reason I survived was because I was strong. And when everything fell apart, when I finally felt weakness-“ his voice caught. “Joseph found me, and he reminded me of what I was. And I owe him everything for that. And I suppose that- that in a way, he made me believe that I was making things better here, better for the future.”

They turned slightly with the music. Rook kept her face pressed. She didn’t want to see what was around her, to see Eli, still frozen, still falling.

“This isn’t an excuse, I’m- I’m babbling. I’m sorry.” A deep breath, that Rook could feel through her bones. “Saying no to him is easy for you, Rook, but not for me. If it wasn’t for Joseph, I would probably be dead right now.” His voice trailed at the last part. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still soft. “I don’t know what it was about you that changed it. After your first trial I- I didn’t see it the same way. I saw the people running the trials as people again, but I couldn’t stop. I still wanted to believe that Joseph was right, because that would have meant that all of it, everything that I did… I didn’t have any other way, and it still felt right, even if I knew that I was a monster. I guess I can’t change that. And I promised Joseph. I promised him, Rook, so I wouldn’t be able to stop it, even if I could. But what hurt the most, Rook-“ his voice broke, ever so slightly. “is that I made you like me. And I couldn’t stop, because I promised Joseph. You have no idea, Rook. You have no idea…”

He was whispering now. “It’s not an excuse. It was me the whole time, what’s done is done. There’s a way to make it all stop.”

His voice trailed off, and he was silent. They stayed like that for a while, pressed close. Rook was scared. Scared of him, scared of herself, scared of Joseph. Scared of what would happen if she let go of him, if she would be thrust back into the reality where she had just killed Eli Palmer. Scared of the reality where she hated Jacob Seed, but also hated how much she didn’t. It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, but right now she had him, and his steady, calloused hands and the smell of smoke and metal, and the music that she was hearing for the first time.

He spoke again, a sound like low thunder. ”Sharky is doing alright. You’ve got strong friends, Rook, and they love you. He’ll forgive you, if he hasn’t already. Hudson just wants you home. She…” They were nearing something, something solid and final, and Rook didn’t want to leave. “Deputy Pratt is safe. Dropped him off in Whitetail territory.” She gripped his hand, knowing he was about to let go. “It can’t make up for a lot of things, I know that, but its something. It’s almost done, Rook. It’s time to finish it. You can finish it.”

She didn’t want him to let go. It didn’t make sense, but she wanted to stay where they were, at least for a little longer. But he kissed her on the top of her head, and pushed off. 

Time began again, coursing through her like a wave, all of the coldness, all of the force. The music, as peaceful and calm as it was in that tiny pocket of time, was scrubbed away, leaving her with a vague headache.

Eli hit the floor, his bow falling to the ground with a clatter.

“ _What the fuck did you do?”_ She hit the wall hard, arms restraining her. She didn’t fight it, feeling numb. Only now she was aware of a deep exhaustion in her bones, as if she had been running for days. She wanted to lay down and never get up. _It’s time to finish it._ She didn’t know what he meant- she thought she had. Eli was dead, but somehow it wasn’t over. It felt like the answer was obvious, and she knew what Jacob wanted her to do, but her mind wouldn’t let her reach the conclusion.

Wheaty held a pistol to her face, his own twisted with anger. “ _You fucking killed him! What the fuck did you do- what the fuck-“_

Wheaty’s hand was shaking, his finger on the trigger, his other hand tangled in her collar, twisting. Oh, how he must hate her. She remembered him letting her borrow VHS tapes, remembered bringing him vinyls. That was undone, now. Rook waited, watched angry tears roll down his face. She felt empty, and she waited, wondering vaguely if she deserved it, if Jacob deserved it. _You can end this._ Someone else slammed into Wheaty now, forcing him off of her. Rook felt herself slump against the wall, feeling far away. _You can end this._ The answer was there, and she hated it. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t.

“Wheaty!” Tammy forced his hands down, and he pushed against her, trying to keep the pistol raised. “ _Wait_. Wheaty, it was Jacob.” She forced him to look at her. How pathetic she must look. “ _Listen to me._ It was Jacob. We’ve seen this before… Ronnie. Parker. Pratt. This is what he does, and we let him right in.”

Wheaty stepped back, panting, his teeth still bared in hatred at Rook, and now Tammy was the one pushing her against the wall, her eyes cold.

“You find that motherfucker,” Tammy said, her voice low. “You find Jacob, and you kill him.” _Its time to finish it._ Jacob’s words echoed in her head. Tammy pushed her toward the door, and she stumbled, falling next to Eli’s body. He stared at her, the shock still frozen on his face, the single red hole like another eye. Rook scrambled, trying to get away from it. Tammy looked down at her in disgust. “You kill him, or so help me God, I’ll kill you myself.”

Rook crawled backward, head swirling, until she found the wall to pull herself up. Her hand hit something warm and sticky, and she tried not to think about it, knowing what it was. From here, she could see the dark crater that was the back of Eli’s head. For a moment, she felt a crowbar in her hand, but she knew it wasn’t there. Tammy glared down at her, waiting, and there were others behind her.

Hudson stared down at her from over Tammy’s shoulder, holding Wheaty close as he sobbed into her, her eyes wide. Just behind her, hiding halfway in the doorway, Sharky.

They looked horrified.

They were scared of her. And that was the last of it.

In that moment, she hated Jacob so much that she thought it would snap her in two.

But she wouldn’t kill him. She couldn’t kill him.

He was all she had left.

Rook grabbed a bow, many guns she could strap to her back, a tactical vest, and a radio on her way out. She knew the way. It was drilled into her. _You can end this._ She didn’t know what he had planned, what she would have to do, except for the final piece.

Someone was yelling her name, and Rook blocked it out. It was all ruined anyway. She was too far gone.

The sun outside was blinding, in a way that hinted she hadn’t seen it in days. How long had she been gone? Judging by how tired she was, how her clothes seemed to hang a little looser than they had before, probably a while. Not something to worry about now. Rook tuned the radio to the frequency he had given her, tapped the talk button to send out a feeler.

“ _Ah… about time you came out. Thought I’d have to come get you myself. Was worried you turned soft on me. But you’re a soldier, Deputy. You do what you’re told.”_

“Get fucked.”

A chuckle. “ _You have a job to finish, Deputy.”_

“I won’t do it.”

“ _Don’t be difficult. I trained you better than that.”_ He was goading her, trying to make her angry, and it was working. But she wasn’t going to kill him. Everything told her the opposite, that he deserved to die. That she should kill him, and all of Hope County would be better for it. But fuck that. Rook didn’t have control over goddamn anything anymore. She didn’t have control that she was the one that got away, that she was the one all these assholes were so fascinated with, that she was the one that had to do everything. That had to go through everything. No. She was going to have control over this one fucking thing, and Jacob Seed was going to live. The motherfucker was going to live, goddamnit.

“You’re going to live through this, or I will die trying to keep you fucking alive, you shitheel.”

“ _I can make you do it, you know.”_

Rook gritted her teeth, pulling a light machine gun from her back.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

The music started.

**_Only you…_ **

Rook immediately fell to one knee, tasting blood. Maybe not the best idea to egg him on, but it was going to start sooner or later. The blues and greens of the Whitetail Mountains faded to red as the music blasted through Jacob’s wolf calls, and the conditioning dug its tendrils into her mind. Over it all, Rook heard shouting. She snapped up toward the sound, a red masked Chosen in her sights. Easy. Now she just had to go to Jacob. She felt something pulling her, deeper into the woods, where he would be.

 _Focus up, Rook._ There was something different about it now. Part of her mind was breaking through, pushing weakly against the instinct that had been drilled into her. Maybe she was getting used to it, or she was now fully aware of what had been done to her, or because some part of Jacob was resisting his own orders. She remembered something he’d said a long time ago.

_< “And if I turned it on now?” >_

_< “You wouldn’t be able to hurt me if you tried.”>_

He was twisting it. He was her target now. Rook wiped at her nose as she tried to ignore the pull, saw her hand come away red with blood.

**_… can make this world seem right…_ **

_The wolf calls. Shut off the music._

Her senses always were better when the music was playing. _Use it._ She took a breath, ignored the lyrics, the beating of her heart in her ears. _There._ The direction where it was louder. She opened her eyes, and she knew where to go.

**_Only you…_ **

More Chosen appeared in the woods, getting denser as she got closer to the speaker. Easy. He had trained her well. _Too well, jackass,_ she thought, then stumbled, tasting blood again.

“ _Don’t cry about Eli… he was weak and selfish. I gave him a chance to prove himself. All he had to do was hand over his Whitetails… could have saved us all this trouble.”_ The pull got stronger, to the point where Rook found herself turning to run to him.

**_… can make the darkness bright…_ **

_Get this one. At least this one._ She was close now, could nearly feel the music on the air. Rook felt herself snarl, and brought the machine gun up again, forced herself to run into it. Blood flowed from her nose as she downed two more Chosen, but the call was right there in front of her. As was the pain in her head.

**_Only you, and you alone…_ **

Rook pulled the grenade pin, threw it. Instead of a shockwave, she was hit with an overwhelming wash of relief as the speaker collapsed. The pull was weaker, the pain in her head a dull throb. The music was still there, blasting from the other calls. But definitely weaker. _Okay. Okay._ Rook pushed herself to sit on her knees, not aware that she’d partially collapsed. The grass in front of her was wet and dark. Was that her blood? She wiped at her face. Yep.

” _Was that worth it, Deputy? All that pain? It’s only going to get worse. Don’t fight it. Just let go.”_

“Get fucked.” Rook spat in the grass, and started heading for the next call.

**_… can thrill me like you do…_ **

She was almost immediately floored again, the music hitting her like a wall, erasing all conscious thought. Holding her under. _FOCUS UP._ She broke through, found herself mid-scream. She was already somewhere else. She spun in the woods, found her path toward the call again. The closer she got, the more it hurt.

**_… and fill my heart with love, for only you…_ **

“ _Don’t you find it ironic that everyone you try to help winds up worse off? Eli, Pratt… He waited for you to save him, you know. He knew how you saved Hudson. You visited me of your own free will, but you didn’t even think about him.”_

Rook didn’t reply, didn’t have the strength to reply- it was all focused on pushing forward. She was closer to the call, and her head was feeling like it was going to explode. _Keep going. Keep going._ Chosen were there to stop her, but the music was on her side in that aspect. _Didn’t think it through, did you, Jacob?_ She laughed bitterly, and threw another grenade.

By the time she got up ( _came to?)_ fire was nearly licking at her boots, and she let the pull take her away from there.

**_Only you… can make this change in me…_ **

_“It’s what I deserve. And you deserve to be the one to do it, after all the pain I caused. “_

She regained control with a scream, finding herself in unfamiliar woods, the smell of smoke gone. _Shit. Shit. Get it together._ Wiping the side of her head, she found more blood. Her chest ached, and she felt at her vest, finding a two bullets lodged in the ceramic plating. Fuck. When did that happen? Panting, she gave the machine gun a once-over. No ammo left. When did that happen- her thoughts were interrupted by another blare of music that forced her to her knees.

**_… for it’s true, you are my destiny…_ **

_”Why are you doing this?”_

Rook coughed. It hurt. It hurt so goddamn much. “I’m not killing you. I’m not.”

“ _After all I’ve done. You_ want _to do this. You deserve to be the one to do it. Come to me, Rook.”_

**… _when you hold my hand…_**

“I’m not,” Rook repeated. It was all she could do, holding the sides of her head, feeling the blood trickle from her ears. She curled into herself, feeling her elbows hit the dirt. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not…”

 _Focus up, Rook._ She stood, finding herself again. _You’re close. You’re so close._ She didn’t know how much longer she could take. She didn’t know what fighting it was doing to her. _Keep going._

**_… I understand the magic that you do…_ **

The training cleared the path for her, and pure willpower threw her last grenade. She slumped to the ground, feeling the pain dulling to low throbs.

Was that the last one? She closed her eyes, listening, hearing only wind through the trees.

She wanted to rest. She wanted to sleep right there, but the echoes of the pull told her that Jacob was still waiting for her, out in the woods. She took inventory of what gear she had left. The machine gun was gone, as were all her grenades (she _knew_ she brought more than three), her sidearm, her shotgun. The soreness of her arms were a souvenir of how many rounds she’d probably shot off, especially her right shoulder, but she couldn’t remember any of it. The tactical vest was in tatters, again. She considered taking it off, remembering Mary May’s warnings. The more bullets, the less it worked. You keep hitting it, something will go through completely. Better than nothing, though.

But the calls were gone. And her path to Jacob was clear. She got to her feet, feeling things sway. The radio at her hip blipped with a burst of static, and went silent. Rook leaned against a tree, sent a blip back.

” _Rook.”_

Rook rested her head against the tree as well. God, she was so tired. ”Jacob.”

“ _Do you think you’re clever? Destroying the wolf calls?”_

“No,” Rook replied lazily.

“ _Then what is your plan now?”_

Rook sighed, slinging her bow onto her back. She was tired of fighting. And to be honest, she wasn’t going to be able to make it to Jacob on her own.

“Serenade me, Jacob.”

A long silence. Then he took a breath.

**_“You’re my dream come true.”_ **

Everything went red.

* * *

Rook vanished again, into fire, into smoke. For the second time, Hudson couldn’t stop her.

For the second time, Hudson raced through the maze that was the Wolf’s Den. Wheaty didn’t stop her this time. Wheaty was on the ground, mourning Eli. Jess didn’t stop her, Sharky didn’t stop her. They were at her heels, tracing the path that had been Rook. Rook, who apparently moved like a ghost through the bunker until she found Eli. Rook, who _looked_ like a ghost, her face gaunt, clothes bloodied, who stared blankly at Eli’s body until Wheaty shoved her into a wall. Rook, who looked at her before she ran again. _I’m too far gone._ That was the part that was frozen in Hudson’s mind as she scrambled up the ladder of the Wolf’s Den, leaving Wheaty and Tammy and Eli behind her.

Hudson mounted an ATV and drove, drove to where the gunshots were loudest. That’s where Rook would be, toward the fire, toward the smoke, toward the noise, toward everything that _shouldn’t be,_ where no one should go, should ever have to go.

When Rook looked at her in the bunker, it was as if she had accepted her own damnation. As if she looked at Hudson’s horror, and thought it was directed at her, at what she’d done. Rook was wrong. Rook was right. Hudson was horrified, but not because of what Rook had done. But because of what Rook thought she had become. Those mother _fucking_ Seeds had toyed with her, molded her, but it was still _her_ Rook in there. _Her_ Rook, and Hudson wasn’t going to let her destroy herself ( _I’m too far gone)_ , no matter how much she thought she deserved it.

The same song played throughout the forest. It boiled Hudson’s blood to hear it, the memory of Rook’s strangled screams as she fought it, uselessly, desperately. The music brought nothing but blood. Gunfire peppered in between beats, explosions rewrote the rhythm. Hudson swore, something twisting inside her angrily, as she tried to find where to go. The music moved, the gunfire swayed, and nothing stayed in place. Rook never stayed in place. She never did, and she didn’t now, as if she was trying to throw them off her trail, trying to make them let her go. Hudson wouldn’t. She never would. Rook didn’t let her go, didn’t leave her in that bunker to die. So Hudson wouldn’t either. She changed direction, followed the noise even though it moved too quickly, forced Sharky and Jess to follow her, even as they shouted at her to slow down. No. Rook never slowed down, never looked back. Kept moving, kept fighting. Hudson would too.

But then the music stopped. The gunfire stopped.

* * *

Rook came to, seated on a rock, as if were a throne. Steady, calloused hands. She blinked, letting things come into focus. Something dabbing at her face, so she reached out to swat it. A large, strong hand caught her wrist.

“You’re a hassle, you know that?” He mumbled. His face was very close to hers. In his other hand was a bloody rag. Was that hers?

She swallowed, collecting herself. _Focus up._ “Only thing I’m good at.”

He let go of her wrist and stepped away, his back to her. “You didn’t need to fight. You ended up right where I wanted you. You’re going to end it, and you’re going to walk away.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

He turned again, a pistol in his hand. He pressed it into hers. “You are.”

“No.”

A muscle at his jaw bulged, and he ran a hand down his face. He looked angry, the cool composure broken. “What is it that you want?” He asked, frustrated.

“For you to live.” The pistol was heavy in her hand. “I want for you to live.”

He laughed, a short, desperate thing. “ _Why?_ After everything. I’m a monster. Ask your friends, for fuck’s sake, if you need a reminder of the things I’ve done. If you think you can save me, you’re wrong. You can’t fix whatever it is that I am.”

“I know that.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. It didn’t suit him. “Then _why?”_

Rook let her head thump back again. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not.”

“If I’m not, neither are you.” Rook met his gaze.

He looked away, his face going red. It was almost funny, how it nearly blended with his hair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“If that was true, then why did you give me the frequency?”

A muscle at his jaw bulged. “You have a chance. You have Hudson, Pratt. Boshaw. I don’t.”

“You have me.” Rook felt her own face going hot. “Jacob, I’m not going to do it.”

He looked at her, finally. She saw a man who had been alone for a very long time, a man that hated the world, hated himself even more than that. A man who had made his decision. “You are.”

He pulled the box from his pocket and opened it.

**_… my one and only…_ **

The music pulled her hand up. The music made sure she had perfect aim.

But Rook was still there, and she wasn’t stupid. And there was a tiny bit of strength left. Her vision went red again, then spiked to white as she pulled the trigger.

The bullet went through the box and into his side. He stumbled, hand going to his side. He looked at the blood on his fingers, anger and shock on his face.

“You missed-“ he gasped. “You weren’t supposed to _miss.”_

Rook wiped at the tears on her face, her hand coming away red. A high pitched ringing in her ears, she choked out, “You trained me well, Jacob. You know I don’t miss.” Her head was throbbing again. There was definitely something wrong with her now. She wasn’t supposed to fight it this long, this hard. “If my friends like me as much as you say, they should be here soon. You fuckin bet you’re going to get medical attention.”

His face twisted as he clutched his side, all pain and determination, and he opened his mouth as if-

Rook’s stomach dropped, felt the pistol still ready in her hands, knowing what he was about to do. Was about to make her do. “Don’t you fuckin sing-“

A stupid, rash decision, but she wasn’t going to let him. She wasn’t going to let him make her do it. And if her gut feeing was right, there was one thing right now he valued more than the end of his own life, in this moment- she raised the pistol, felt the heat of the muzzle close to her own head, pulled-

Jacob lunged, his face going white. A crushing weight hit her, sending the pistol flying out of her hands and down the hill. Not before something hot streaked into her like lightning, a red-hot poker thrust into her chest.

“Oh,” Rook mumbled, feeling her body going numb.

Steady, calloused hands were on her chest, searching through the bullet-ridden tactical vest, trying to find a breach. “You fucking idiot. You absolute fucking idiot. What the fuck were you thinking?”

A stupid, rash decision, but it worked, didn’t it?

Rook looked down curiously, seeing the red spreading creeping down her sweatshirt from under the vest. Her hand drifted up, felt a bullet lodged between broken plates, to the right of her sternum. No, that wasn’t right. _There._ A hole, about and inch and a half up, where the plate was weakened, slowly getting warmer and wetter. “For the record, I was gonna shoot like, past my head-“

Rook had never seen panic on Jacob’s face. It didn’t suit him.

“You absolute fucking moron.” There was a lot of blood. From his side, from her. “I trained you in _trigger discipline,_ you idiot-“ Her world rocked as Jacob pulled the failed vest off her, his hands immediately going to her chest. She expected to feel pain, but she didn’t feel much of anything anymore. _You didn’t finish the song,_ Rook thought. _You can finish it._

“My one… and only you...” Her vision had started to go fuzzy, but went back into focus with a red-tinted shock. Not sure why, she laughed, a strange sensation as the numbness spread. She gasped as the lighting through her chest made a brief reappearance, and she reached out on instinct, grabbing his arm. It felt familiar, like something she had done long ago. Her hands were bloody. When had they gotten so bloody?

His eyes were wide, desperate. He had taken off his old Army jacket, (when had he done that?) the one with his name on it, tore the sleeve from it, shoved it at the wound. She expected that to hurt, but it didn’t. He had a plain black shirt underneath, the side of it darker and shiner than the rest. _She shot him_ , she remembered, and tried to reach out, but her right arm was numb.

“You need help,” she mumbled. Jacobs eyes darted to his side, kept the pressure on her.

“Triage,” he said. His knuckles were white. “You help the person in the most danger first.”

“You’ve done this before.”

His eye twitched. “Just focus on trying to stay awake, Rook.”

“Mmmm.” She was getting sleepier, the drowsiness coming over her in waves, lapping. ( _say yes)_ “You’re gonna help yourself, right?” He froze, eyes going blank for a moment. She was still holding his arm, she realized, and she squeezed, tried to bring him back to wherever he’d gone off to. When he finally met her eyes, the impression that she got was that she had broken something in him. Something that needed to be broken, something that was wrong, festering for a long time. He blinked rapidly, the stony exterior building up again, but it was cracked, just enough to let her in.

“Someone needs to make sure you survive shooting yourself,” he mumbled. He was confused, defeated. It didn’t suit him.

“Mmmmm.” Rook wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to give in, let the depths wash over her, pull her back under. ( _say yes)_ It would be so easy, just to go to sleep here. 

“ _Rook.”_

“Mm?” She was leaning with her shoulders, in his lap as he leaned against the rock himself. Her head against his chest now, his hands still pressing against her, hard. When did that happen? She could feel the pressure, but it was just that, nothing else. She tried to look up at him, but it was hard to turn her neck. “Here.”

“If you die here, your buddies are going to kill me.” He sounded tired, but- she must be imagining it- there was a weak smile on his face. “That’s not what you want, right?”

“I’m here,” she mumbled. _It’s just one word._ “If _you_ die…” it was hard to make words. She rested her head against the crook of his elbow. She was tired. “I’ll be really pissed.”

His chest rumbled as he chuckled _. (say yes)_ “I’ve seen what you can do when you’re pissed.”

“It’ll also suck if I die of an accidental fire.”

His arms were warm. “Your reputation would be ruined.”

Waves. Gentle, lapping. She was being lowered, her head going gently under. ( _say yes)_

“Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

The water covered her face. So tired. “Don’t leave, okay?” ( _say yes)_

“I’m here, Rook.”

She said yes. She vaguely felt someone shaking her, thought she heard John Seed laughing somewhere, somewhere far away.


	12. dont look back those days are gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you have like, 24k words that you haven't posted yet, it happens, so enjoy  
> GOD i should be working on my thesis

Rook was popular. And so they came. 

Not fast enough. Not fast enough, not before she stopped answering him, went limp in his arms as he tried to press against the wound in her chest ( _his fault)._ His army jacket, the one he’d clung to all this time, wouldn’t stop the blood fast enough, not enough for his liking. (He liked that jacket. There was a reason it had been around for so long, a memory, a reminder.) She felt tiny under his hands. She was always small, but after more than a week of laying at the floor of a cage while her mind tried to piece itself back together… she was so goddamn skinny. He knew what it was like to waste away like that, and she wasn’t even given the opportunity to feel hungry before Joseph ( _Jacob)_ threw her to the wolves. The Platters was probably the only thing that had kept her conscious, and she was running on fumes. Had been, for a long time, probably before Joseph even played the tape. Jacob tried to wrap her tighter in the jacket, but the blood kept spreading while her lips went blue from shock, a stark contrast to the crimson smears that still tracked across her face.

But Rook was popular, and so they came.

One of them ventured out first, cautiously, carefully. For anyone else, they would be invisible, but not for him. That one signaled to the others, that it was just him and Rook. That there was no danger. Not anymore, not now. Rook needed him, so here he would stay, holding her together.

The bullet wound in his side starting to ebb into his consciousness, pushing past the shock. _Stay here. Stay here._ He held Rook in his lap, pressing against the wound in her chest. She’d pulled the trigger, but it was his fault. He waited for them to come out. They would be scared of him. Scared of him, and they would see Rook dying in his arms, and they would know it was his fault. They would be scared, and they would shoot him on sight.

Rook. Stupid, stubborn Rook.

She should’ve hated him. She should have shot him, without the need for music, without hesitation, like he’d trained her. She should have raised that pistol and shot him in the head like she had Eli, instead of hitting the music box. She should have killed him, like he wanted. Like he _had_ wanted.

How _dare_ she change his mind.

One of them finally stepped through the trees. Cautiously, slowly, the barrel of a shotgun pointed right at him. Next to that, a bow. And next to that, what looked like a redneck flamethrower.

“ _Get your fucking hands off her.”_

Jacob sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Jacob said slowly, tiredly. He kept pressing on Rooks chest. It still rose and fell under his hands, but not as deep, as strong as he would have liked. _Stay calm._ He was calm. He had to be. “I would raise my hands, but I need to keep pressure on this wound.”

The one with the braid- one of the other deputies, Hudson, he recognized- looked back and forth between him and Rook. “Did you do that?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t afford to lie, not here, not now.

Deputy Hudson glared at him. _If looks could kill._ If it was a different setting, Jacob would have laughed. He’d seen the same expression on Rook. Must be where she learned it. “Get your hands off her.”

Jacob sighed, the wound in his side be safe. “Then get over here, and take over.”

Hudson kept the shotgun up for a moment, squinting, before handing if off to the man beside her. She knelt beside Rook, shoving Jacob’s hands aside and replacing him, drawing her into her own lap. glaring at him all the while. But then she felt the blood in her blaring. His patience was thin. _Keep it together,_ he told himself. The more smoothly this went, the quicker Rook would own hands, felt ribs through her fingers, and Deputy Hudson’s face went white. “Oh fuck- oh fuck-“

“You need to get her out of here, now,” he said in a low voice, just so she could hear, and Hudson shot a glare at him, as if torn between how fiercely she wanted to hurt him for what he did, and how fiercely she wanted for Rook to open her eyes.

The other two were glaring at him, weapons still levelled, so he slowly raised his hands, ignoring the growing pain in his side. He recognized them. Jess Black, technically one of the Whitetails. Her expression was the stone-still look of rage and grief crashing into one another. If the others weren’t here, she would have surely killed him. _Should have had her instead of Rook,_ Jacob thought bitterly. Next to her was the one they called “Sharky” Boshaw- Jacob immediately noticed the slightly lopsided way he held his shoulder. Rook’s work. _You could take him out at least, easy._ Jacob gritted his teeth, ignoring the instinct. That wasn’t what he was here to do. He was here to make sure Rook was safe, and- _goddamnit, Rook-_ to survive. As much as it was against his plan, as much as he didn’t (he thought he didn’t, convinced himself he didn’t) want to. His plan, his old plan, was fucked. So he was going to follow Rook’s lead, wherever that went. Boshaw wasn’t reacting to him as the other were, which took him by surprise- instead looking carefully between him and Rook, his brow furrowed.

“We need a doctor,” Hudson said. The sureness, the ruthlessness had fled her voice, leaving only a growing panic. “A surgeon. Where?”

“Hope County Jail,” Boshaw said. It was strange- from what Jacob had heard from him, he was some kind of redneck pyromaniac dunce. Now, he was articulate. He was still analyzing Jacob, met his gaze. Strange. There was more to him that it seemed, apparently. “They’ve got someone. But it’s a drive.”

“We can make it.”

Hudson was already gathering Rook in her arms, ready to carry her away. She seemed to have forgotten Jacob completely, was muttering something under her breath in Rook’s ear. Rook didn’t respond. The other two still had their weapons aimed at him, watching, analyzing. He waited, feeling exposed, vulnerable. It was a new kind of feeling.

“Why are you still here?” Hudson asked, slowly, her head turning suddenly. Cautiously, like she was approaching a rabid animal. Which was fitting.

Irritation shot though him. He wanted to yell at them, tell them they were wasting time. “Rook- the Deputy-“

“’ _Rook’?”_

Jacob didn’t flinch, kept his eyes on Rook. She was pale, far too pale. They were wasting time. At least get _her_ out of here. His jaw clenched, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “The Deputy is injured. Get her out of here.”

Jess Black’s eyes were on him, on the shirt wet with blood sticking to his skin. “What’s that?”

He didn’t see a reason to lie. He swallowed, biting back growing frustration. What the fuck were they doing? _This wasn’t the time._ “She shot me. I made her.”

Her head cocked, lip twisting into a snarl. “You made her?”

“If it was my choice, I would be dead.”

“Then why aren’t you?” Hudson didn’t bother to hide the hostility.

“She wants me alive. She could have- she was supposed to kill me. It’s not my choice.” The pain in his side was flaring now, the streak where the bullet carved a path through him making itself known. _Stay calm,_ he had told himself, but it was getting pretty fucking difficult. “It’s not my choice.”

“What the fuck do you mean she wants you alive?” Boshaw spoke now, the flamethrower lowering slightly. Listening.

“You ask her,” Jacob said, wincing. It was getting harder to keep his hands raised. Either they were going leave him here to drag him along- _just make a fucking decision._ “You ask her, when you _get her out of here.”_

“He’s full of shit,” Black growled. The tip of an arrow was pointed directly at his throat. She wasn’t going to do it, Jacob knew. Not now, at least. The rage and grief- it make her hesitate, block her from doing anything. She needed to realize that, so they could _get a fucking move on._

“Look, figure it out for yourself,” he snapped, patience waning. “If Rook wanted to kill me, I would be dead. I planned on dying here. I didn’t. If I had planned on killing Roo- the Deputy, she would be dead and I wouldn’t be here.” He let himself slump against the rock behind him, let his hands drop. Found himself breathing hard. “I’m not armed anymore, I’m in no shape to kill anyone. Just make a choice already.” 

“Can you walk?” Boshaw moved his flamethrower to his back.

Black’s head whipped around. The arrow didn’t move. “The _fuck,_ Sharky _-“_

“Look, if this fucker’s telling the truth and we kill him, Dep will be fucking pissed. You want to deal with that?”

Black’s hands were shaking. Even at his strength, Jacob could probably knock the bow from her hands. “You know what he’s done-“

“Put it down.” Hudson broke in. She was holding Rook up. Rook’s eyelids were fluttering, struggling to stay open, and her lips moved as she said something only Hudson could hear. Hudson’s face was completely white, set in a mixture of confusion and resolve. “He’s coming with.”

“ _Hudson-“_

“ _Jess.”_ Hudson looked like she regretted everything she was saying, but she held Rook tight. “He’s telling the truth. Help me with Rook. There’s a truck down the road we can borrow. We’ve stayed here too long.”

Jacob rested his head against the rock, looking up at the sky. _About damn time._ Black kept her weapon at him for a few heartbeats more, the growled and stalked away, taking one of Rook’s arms over her shoulders. He could hear Hudson and Black arguing in hushed voices as they made their way into the trees.

Boshaw sidled up to him, holding out a hand. “Can you walk?”

Jacob waved the hand away, pushing himself up, leaving a red streak upward on the stone. It hurt like a bitch, but he’d had worse. “Yeah.” Now that he was standing, he felt the world swaying. Fuck. He couldn’t push away blood loss, though. He could last longer than Rook, he was larger, healthier, but time was time, and blood was blood. “Might need help,” he admitted through gritted teeth, limping toward the trees where Black and Hudson had gone. Every step was a jolt. He’d had worse. He’d given worse.

“You better not pass out on me,” Boshaw grumbled, taking one of Jacobs arms and putting it over his shoulders, taking some of the weight. Jacob felt himself tense immediately at the proximity. But he needed the steadiness, or else he was going to pitch over. _Fuck._ He hadn’t planned this far. All he ever did was plan, and he didn’t plan this far. ”You’re a fucking giant and I’ve got a bum shoulder.”

“Sorry.” That was right. Rook had shot him, too. Jacob tried to lean less on him, still felt his head floating.

Boshaw guffawed. “A Seed sibling apologizing? Is the world coming to an end?”

Jacob was not going to answer that question.

Boshaw didn’t shut up. Jacob had been around the dude for all of five minutes, and he was already picking at his nerves. And this was Rook’s best buddy? Opposites attract, he guessed. “What is going on with you, dude?”

He tensed even more, if that was possible. He didn’t answer that question, either. He focused on walking forward, tried to ignore the completely inappropriately timed commentary.

“You’re gonna have to talk eventually, dude. Lot of people are gonna have a lot of questions for you. Lot of people are going to be pissed.”

They couldn’t get to that truck fast enough.

“Now I trust Dep. I trust that she’s got some weirdass reason for wanting to keep you around instead of whatever she did to your bro John- sorry.”

“He had it coming.”

“Ha! That we can agree on, buddy. Anyway. Jess wants to kill you. But between you and me, Hudson will do whatever Dep wants, and same. We’re simpin’ hard, you know?”

Jacob winced, not entirely from his bullet wound. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Something the kids are sayin’, don’t worry about it. Okay. But. Dude to dude, okay?” His voice went low. “What is going on with you and Dep?”

Jacob was very much not going to answer that question, because he didn’t know. And now fucking _wasn’t the time._

“Dep’s been havin’ a rough time. I’m not pointing fingers, but its definitely partially because of you. I’m just trying to help Dep. I _will_ stick my fingers in your side meat if you don’t say anything.”

“My side meat.” If Jacob wasn’t about to pass out, he would fully cobber him.

“You have some kind of ‘you are meat’ thing right? I will hurt you. Answer the question.”

“Classical conditioning. Same as I did to everyone else. Made her follow my orders. Its just… sticking longer than I thought it would.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Then why’d you let Pratt go, huh?” The ATVs were in view now. Hudson was holding Rook close to her, keeping her from slumping over. “The Jacob Seed I’ve known would have kept him. Dangled him in from of Dep until she lost her mind, or did something super fucked up or stupid. Or just killed him and fed him to the Judges.” When Jacob stayed silent, he added, “If you give me something to work with I’ll let you choose front or back till we get to the truck. You’re my ATV buddy, buddy.”

“I don’t know.” Jacob kept his voice low, feeling Black glaring daggers at him. It would be easier if he just let himself pass out. “I told you. I wanted her to kill me. You ask her.”

Boshaw studied him, and he willed his face to stay calm.

“Alright. Front or back?”

* * *

Hudson remembered the first day Rook showed up for the job.

She was small, nervous. Jumpy. But after Pratt tried to hit on her, she made a point to keep mistaking his name for “Deputy Prick” instead. When Hudson laughed at it, Rook had smirked, and her face went immediately red, and she glowed. Glowed like embers, glowed like fire. When Rook moved through Hope Valley, moved through it like a forest fire, she left smoke in her wake. For Hudson, there was comfort in smoke, because that’s where Rook was.

Rook was too small. Too small in Hudson’s arms as Jess drove through the woods toward the jailhouse, too small as she was carried in. The beds in the makeshift infirmary of the jailhouse were nothing more than inmate cots moved to a different room, and Rook was too small as Hudson set her on one. Too cold. Ashen. Extinguished. Lindsey was the doctors name, and he was nervous, and if Hudson wasn’t so scared, if they were anywhere else she would have demanded someone else, but there was no one else. So Hudson helped, helped the best she could, watched Doc Lindsey pull the bullet from between her ribs. Helped him stich her back together, helped him wrap her up tight.

Rook was too small, and it was because she had been wasting away. Starved. Dehydrated. It had been over a week since she’d been torn from them, and the Seeds let the embers die down until they barely glowed, and then they pushed her further. The IV was supposed to help, to make her healthy again. Hudson hoped it would. She prayed it would. This wasn’t how Rook was supposed to be. Rook was a fire, Rook was smoke, Rook was destruction. Rook was small, but she was everything, and this wasn’t how she was supposed to be.

Jacob was beside her. Unconscious, having nearly bled out from the wound in his side. He didn’t deserve to be. Hudson wanted to let Jess have her way. But Rook- stupid, stubborn Rook, had whispered in her ear, whispered with whatever she had had left in her.

“ _I need him. Please.”_

Hudson had no idea what that meant.

Maybe Hudson should have let Jess kill him, maybe they should have left him for the animals. It would have been ironic, for his body to be spread as the scavengers picked him clean, for the wolves to gnaw his bones to nothing.

But Rook said she needed him, and Hudson didn’t get it, because it didn’t make sense, it couldn’t make sense, but she couldn’t risk it. Rook was small, and whatever the Seeds had done to her so far had hurt her, far deeper than she let people see. Even Hudson could only catch glimpses when she would stare off, could only peek at the scars running far below. And if Rook said she needed him, if Jacob Seed was somehow the key to helping her, getting her to let herself be happy again- well, Hudson had to let him live. For now, until he proved that he could help her. But she wasn’t going to get over Rook’s blood on his hands. She wasn’t going to trust him, and she wasn’t going to give him the chance to hurt her again.

A hand was on her shoulder. “Hudson, get some rest.”

“Hmm?” She blinked rapidly, unaware that she was half dozing, leaning with her elbows on her knees on the physician’s stool. 

Sharky pulled at her arm, trying to get her to stand. “She’s not gonna wake up tonight, Hud. Give her time.”

Hudson shook her head. She could sleep here. It was the least she could do.

“Remember Pratt? He needed to sleep, too. Their brains need time to rest and heal, too. Rook’s going to be okay, and she’d want you to get some sleep.”

“What if he wakes up?” Hudson gestured to Jacob Seed. “What if he does it to her again-“

Sharky squeezed her shoulder, gently. “He’s not gonna hurt her, not anymore.”

“He did so much to her-“

“I’ll have Earl handcuff him to the bed, how’s that?” Hudson still didn’t move, so Sharky knelt in front of her, sighing. “Hudson. She’s safe. We found her, and we got her here, and she’s going to be fine. Just needs a big, long nap. So we’re gonna go get some sleep too while Doc Lindsey keeps an eye on her, okay? And we’re gonna know if either of them wake up.”

Hudson gazed at Rook, tiredly. Safe. She was safe. Her chest rose and fell steadily. She was safe. “Okay.”

She was small. She was safe.

* * *

Jacob woke up handcuffed to a bed, and to a knife at his throat.

He could feel the edge of it, pressing, cold. A sharp contrast to the steady, throbbing pain in his side. He vaguely remembered someone pulling a bullet from him, patching it quicky. In waking, he wished for them to do it already, to succeed where Rook had failed. But then he turned his head to the side, seeing where she laid unconscious and deathly pale on her own cot, and remembered his promise.

He was here. Whether he wanted it or not.

Jess Black, for the record, did _not_ want it, and the knife in her hand trembled. She was sitting on his chest, pinning his arms with her knees, as if his hands weren’t already immobilized. Her weight was making the wound in his side scream, making the gauze pressed to it damp again. Behind her, Jacob could see he was still in their makeshift infirmary. It was nighttime, and the small amount of moonlight allowed through the jailhouse’s tiny windows cast shadows over Black’s face.

“I know you’re awake, you son of a bitch,” she snarled.

Jacob looked up at her, felt the metal keeping his wrists at his sides.

“Do what you want, Black.”

Her eyes were dark, haunted, shrouded by her hood. Bottomless. He knew with a certainty that she hated him with every ounce of her being, wanted to cut him into little pieces. He also knew that she wasn’t going to do that; if that was her goal, he would have never woken up.

She showed her teeth. “You know who I am then. You know my parents, too? What your fucking cronies did to them?”

The scar on her face was a lightning strike. He knew, of course. He’d done his research after he’d picked up Rook the first time. The Cook. An oversight. Jacob knew what that man was doing, knew his methods and how he spouted Jacob’s… _teachings_ as he did it. Jacob knew, had heard the stories of what was being done in his name, and he had ignored it. He wasn’t the one to set the fires, to make the cuts, but he _knew._ Everything up until now was in perfect, excruciating detail, and he was at the center of it. He wished he could feel empty, but there was far too much that forced itself to be remembered. “Yes.”

Black laughed, more of a snarl. Beside him, Rook didn’t stir. The knife at his throat wavered.

“You think we’re all just going to ignore it all? Because little Dep here-“ she was gesturing with the knife now, toward Rook. “Decided you could have a chance?” She was laughing still, and it was twisted and thorned. “You don’t _deserve_ a chance.”

“I don’t.” Her eyes narrowed more, her whole face twisted into a grimace. It was hitting him now, in a way it hadn’t in the woods. He had been too busy thinking about _her_ that he didn’t realize it, that he wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn’t think this far ahead, and there was nothing ahead of him. He’d taken hold of Rook’s words too easily, he’d clung to them, when he should have let go. What was he going to do now? What could he possibly do? “Do what you want, Black.”

The knife was back in an instant, and she’d stopped laughing. Her words bit into him, more than he had expected. “I thought you would be stronger than this.”

_Weak._

He was weak for wanting it. Weak for not training Rook well enough to do it. Weak for not doing it himself, not succeeding. Another chance was in front of him, and he was weak.

He met her eyes, and waited for her to do it, but a set of hands appeared under her armpits, pulling her bodily off of him. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over his side as the pressure was removed.

(What would Rook have done, if she woke up and he was gone?)

“ _Let me go!”_ Black was screaming. A large man with an impressive mustache was grappling with her, catching her wrist and twisting it enough that the knife clattered to the floor. ” _You son of a bitch- let me go-“_

(Was it all a bluff? A deception? He was no stranger to deception. He would have been able to tell.)

“Jess, come on,” the man said, taking control of both her wrists and crossing them over her chest in a straightjacket embrace. She still kicked, her boots thumping against the floor. “Shhh.”

(Would she just leave him here? For the others to deal with, and continue her way? Continue burning the Project to the ground?)

“ _Don’t fucking shush me, Earl-“_ She was trying to bite at his hands, desperately.

( _“Don’t leave, okay?”_ She wouldn’t remember it. She’d lost a lot of blood. She probably didn’t mean it.)

Lights were flickering on in the jailhouse, and Jacob could hear footsteps echoing in the hall.

( _“I’m here, Rook.”_ He meant it. He meant it.)

A voice he didn’t recognize. “Earl, what’s going on-“

(He wished he could have lied. He wished he didn’t want it.)

Earl- Jacob remembered the name now, the Sheriff- spoke softly over Black’s protests. “Check on Seed there, those stitches are burst.”

(He was weak. He was a fool.)

“Ah, shit-“ Hands were at his side, a man he didn’t recognize with glasses, seeming like he had just woken up. The man not-so-gently tore away the bandages at his abdomen, causing Jacob to grunt, finding the reopened wound.

(For changing his mind. For hoping.)

Black was sobbing now, hanging limply in the Sheriff’s arms, still kicking weakly. “ _Let me go, let me go-“_

(But the hope was all he had left.)

Rook’s Hudson burst in, braid undone, saw the fresh blood, Black in the Sheriff’s grapple. “Earl, what-“

(But she would wake up, and realize what he was.)

“It’s fine, Hudson, help me get her out of here-“

(What he had done. What he let happen. She would realize that she was wrong.)

“I’m gonna kill him,” Jess was all rage and grief. “ _I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna kill him-“_ She repeated it as the Sheriff and Hudson forcibly removed her from the room, leaving him with their maybe doctor and the unconscious Rook next to him.

 _You were wrong,_ Jacob thought. _You were wrong._

(Don’t leave, okay?)

The doctor was not gentle as he removed the old bandages, recleaned the wound.

“We’re out of painkillers,” he said in a low voice, prepping his needle for sutures.

Jacob knew he was lying. He didn’t care. It was only a fraction of what he had caused, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because no one asked, part 2:  
> Jacob: Blood On My Name- The Brothers Bright /// Wolf Like Me- TV On the /// Nothing Arrived (Spotify Sessions)- Villagers /// Through the Valley- Shawn James /// I Know I’ve Been Changed- LaShun Pace /// Ain’t No Sunshine- Bill Withers /// Run From Me- Timber Timbre


	13. follow me to the endless night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have SO much backwritten, yall  
> (and i did get some progress on my thesis, don't @ me)

One of the benefits of the best doctor being at Hope County Jail was that they could lock him up. Not that he was doing anything, and it was almost more for his own protection than for anyone else’s. The Jacob Seed that Hudson had heard about wasn’t there, the calculating, cruel man that could take anything he wanted and twist it to his will. Now Jacob just sat against the wall of his cell, his waist wrapped in bandages and gauze, staring into nothing. It that was it seemed like what he had said was true, that he planned to die. He was just waiting.

It had been four days since they’d dragged him and Rook into the jailhouse. They’d kept a hood over Jacob’s head, hiding him until they could talk to Earl, try to explain to him what was going on. Not like they had any idea what the fuck was going on anyway.

The Seeds used Rook like a puppet to kill Eli. Tammy swore to kill Rook if she didn’t kill Jacob. Now they had both Jacob, alive and seemingly defeated, and now explanation as to why except for Rook, who wasn’t waking up. So all they could do was stay in the jailhouse and keep quiet until they figured this shit out.

Sharky, Earl, and Hudson each took turns sitting outside his cell, mainly to make sure no one killed him. Specifically Jess. After her second attempt, stopped by Sharky this time, she disappeared into the woods, only coming back every couple of days to steal food. At first they had thought she’d gone to the Wolf’s Den and spilled to Tammy that Jacob Seed wasn’t dead like everyone thought, but there was radio silence on that topic. Jess didn’t say what she had been doing, but there was blood on her sleeves, and it wasn’t hers, so they could only guess.

Sharky had been trying to get Jacob to talk, as had Earl. But the guy preferred to stay silent it seemed, just sit there with his brooding stare and his bandages, just waiting. He was a brick wall. Not that Hudson cared. She didn’t have anything to say to him other than to tell him to go fuck himself. She looked at him, and all she could see was the Grandview, the blood spattered across the walls. Briggs, shaking and begging in his chair. If this fucker did that to Rook, Hudson didn’t have a fucking thing to say. So she just sat in her chair during her shifts, cleaned her shotgun, and waited for Rook to wake up.

Rook slept. All things considered, she was lucky. Apparently she had been wearing a tactical vest when Jacob shot her. The thing was ruined for the most part, as objects in Rook’s possession tended to be. So even though the bullet broke though, it was greatly slowed by the remnants of the ceramic plate, ending up lodged between two of her ribs, directly above her left breast. According to Dr. Lindsey (the ‘doctor’ part Hudson doubted, but he was the best they had) the blood loss and whatever the fuck Jacob did to her head were almost more of a problem than the bullet. Sharky said that the first time they’d brought her out of the conditioning she was out for nearly a week, so they just needed to wait it out.

Wait it out. And that was some kind of bullshit. What if she was dreaming, wherever she was? She’d had the nightmares before, but now she was statue still, she didn’t cry out, her hands didn’t clench tight. What if she was trapped in John’s bunker this whole time? Hudson whispered her name, poked her, shook her shoulder, but Rook didn’t stir, just stayed in whatever place she was in. So Hudson stayed, when she wasn’t with Jess out keeping an eye on the region, when she wasn’t stuck on Jacob duty, stayed and waited. She had to be there when Rook finally woke up, because she couldn’t leave Rook behind again. She couldn’t have Rook wake up without Hudson there. So she waited.

 _He_ was waiting, too. That was it. Jacob was playing nice, because at some point Rook would wake up. And that was where everything was fucked- why? Why was he waiting for her, why did he stay with her? Why did she insist on saving him? What the fuck was going on between them anyway?

There were parts of Rook that she hid from Hudson, from everyone else. Hudson knew in her gut that Jacob knew those parts somehow, and Hudson didn’t.

SHe blinked, snapping out of her own head, and glanced over at Jacob- _fuck._ Hudson jumped, hands tightening on the shotgun in her lap, realizing he was staring at her. Fucking creepy.

“You got a problem?”

She was always happy for the bars separating them, because even caged, he felt like a predator. “You’re the one that John got.”

Something about his voice was different from how Hudson remembered. No longer the edge of a knife. Her knuckles were white against the shotgun. What did he want? “You say that like we’re collectibles.”

He shrugged. Yeah, he still was fucking _scary,_ but there was something about him that was different from the man Hudson had heard about, remembered from the briefings forever ago. He seemed tired. “Roo-“ He closed his eyes, taking a breath. “The Deputy went through a lot of trouble to get you out.”

“No shit.” Rook, pupils dilated, staring around the bunker in horror, covered in blood. Her back shaking as Sharky bandaged her ribs, a dark purple watercolor creeping up to her shoulders. “Why the fuck are you bringing this up? Some sort of shitty mind game?”

His jaw tensed. He took another breath. “Joseph… knows things. Things that…that happened to Rook, and that Rook did.”

 _Rook._ He was calling her Rook. Hudson’s mind started racing. “What are you saying?”

He met her eyes again, deadly serious. “That there are things you should know.”

Her stomach plummeted.

Another perk of being at Hope County Jail was that they had an interrogation room, which seemed appropriate for the occasion. Just a small, square room with a security camera in the corner and a window in the wall, but it was fitting. Jacob raised an eyebrow as Earl handcuffed him to the table, but didn’t comment on it.

“You lead this,” Earl had said to Hudson and Sharky, outside. “I’ve had my hands full with Faith. You know more than I do.” That much was true. Hudson had barely seen him as he ran around directing the Cougars. Now that Jacob was out of the picture, Faith seemed to be stepping up in a way she hadn’t before. Earl was just trying to keep up, and he took the whole issue of Jacob being there in stride, delegating it off to Hudson. He gave Hudson a weak smile, clapped her on the back. “It’s almost like we’re doing our actual jobs again, huh?”

 _Just like it,_ Hudson thought sarcastically once she was sitting across the table from him. Sharky was at her side, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. Jacob didn’t make eye contact, stared at the wall instead. He wore a loose Hope County Jail officer uniform shirt, mostly unbuttoned, showing the bandages that wound around his waist, and the scarring. More scarring than should be on a person. He looked like the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do was talk to someone, but if he knew that if he didn’t, things would be worse. It gave Hudson a weird sense of déjà vu, reminded her of someone. _Don’t._

“You said you wanted to talk.” Hudson was anxious, the quiet dread growing as Jacob sat there, quietly. She wished Earl could be the one leading this, partly because he had more experience in the general matter, and she didn’t want to hear what Jacob had to say. Because then she would learn more of what the Seeds had done to Rook, and there was already so much. There was already too much. And the animal part of her just wanted to rip his throat out with her hands.

Jacob seemed like he didn’t want to say anything either. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, tracing water stains and cracks on the wall. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning.” Sharky glanced sideways at Hudson, giving her a curt nod. _Keep it together._

Jacob closed his eyes. He spoke slowly, deliberately. ”The plan was for Rook to kill Eli from the beginning. The trials- the conditioning process used music as the trigger. The objective was clearing a bunker, modelled off the estimations for the Wolf’s Den. The first time I- I had Rook was to establish the trigger, give her the necessary combat training.” He looked at Sharky. “That first time Eli went into the Grandview guns a-blazing wasn’t a victory. He was meant to find her and bring her to the Wolf’s Den. It gave Rook the introduction to Eli and brought her inside, and I knew from there it would start a partnership. That was planned from the beginning.”

Hudson’s fingernails were digging into her palm. “You call her Rook.”

His eyes flickered away from the wall, toward her. He set his jaw, looked like a man about to jump from a plane. “Yes.”

“Everyone else calls her Deputy. Dep.”

His eye twitched. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He looked away again, biting at his cheek. “She asked me to.”

Sharky’s leg was bouncing. Hudson felt something rising within her, a mixture of anger and- not disbelief, but an intense wish that the things he was saying, and was going to say weren’t true. That he was making it all up, and that Rook had nothing to do with him. It turned her stomach.

“You going to fucking elaborate on that?” she asked through gritted teeth.

He didn’t want to. Hudson could tell. He didn’t want to, but he was making himself do it. “She came to me after escaping John’s bunker. Before-“

“-before she killed him,” Hudson spat. “I remember, I was fucking there.”

Jacob nodded. His face was emotionless as he continued, but in a way that was tense, forced. “She broke into the Grandview-“

Sharky leaned forward. “She fucking _what?”_

Jacob pushed through. “She was injured. High on Bliss. She asked me for the music used in the conditioning, although I’m not sure how much she remembers. I patched her up just enough so that Eli wouldn’t be too suspicious and left her in the woods for the Whitetails to find.”

Hudson blanched, thinking of the truck door bouncing closed, of Rook rolling as she hit the dirt. The dead look in her eyes as she raised her bow toward Hudson. The tears of blood that had trickled down her cheeks. “You’re lying. Why would she do that, it’s _insane.”_

Jacob met her eyes. His were ice blue, a cold long winter. “For you.”

The arrow may as well have hit her right then. _No._ It couldn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense. That Rook would willingly do something like that to herself, for Hudson. But she had seen the bodies, that day in the bunker as they limped back up to the surface. Saw the path where Rook had carved her way in. He seemed to sense Hudson falling, and spoke quietly. His hands were clenched where they were handcuffed to the table. “The music was meant to guide her through a bunker. Specifically the Wolf’s Den, but she wanted to use it to get back to you. She came to _me._ I didn’t force her to do that.”

“And you gave it to her.”

“Not then. I did the second time I spoke to her.” He winced as he said it.

“The _second time?”_ Hudson was shifting through emotions too quickly, and now she wanted to slam Jacob’s head into the table.

He closed his eyes, holding his breath. “When she killed John. I tracked where the parachute landed, found John in the woods. Let her do what she needed to, then gave her a tape player.”

Something dropped below Hudson. “You… you let her kill John?” He nodded solemnly. “ _Why?”_

He thought for a moment. “He deserved it.”

The anger was starting to spill over. Sharky’s hand was on her knee, a precaution, telling her to keep it together. But she didn’t _want_ to keep it together, she wanted to make Jacob Seed feel pain. “And you do too, you _fucking asshole_.” She was not prepared for a strange, fathomless sadness in his eyes, like he _accepted_ that, and for some reason that made her even more pissed off.

Sharky cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. There was nothing he could break. It just kept building. “So she used the tape player to- to-“

“I know what she _fucking_ used the tape player for, _Sharky,”_ Hudson growled, pushing his hand off her knee. “I was _fucking_ there.” She glared. “Any other secret meetings you want to tell us about, _Jacob_?”

Hudson snapped at him, she could see parts of the old Jacob rising up, like hackles on a wolf. But he didn’t bite, just clenched his jaw so hard that she thought his teeth would crack. “No.”

“So the music in the woods- was that just some kind of sick trick? Make her turn on us, just to see her suffer?”

He closed his eyes. His knuckles were white. “That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. That wasn’t my idea-“

“You’ve had a lot of _fucking ideas_ so far-“

“ _I tried to stop it.”_ He snapped at her. His voice was sharp, but low, like he didn’t want anyone to hear.

The fucking asshole. “Bullshit.”

“ _Hudson.”_ Sharky’s leg was bouncing wildly, a strange look on his face. Like he was waiting.

Jacob glared between the two of them, looking like part of him had changed his mind about speaking to them. But he took a breath and went on, even though the razors were still in his voice, just as they had sounded over the radio calls at the very beginning.

“Joseph was angry about what Rook did to John.” He looked at Hudson, leaning as close as the table allowed, making sure she was listening. Her blood boiled. He spoke smoothly, deliberately. “I don’t know if she told you how it went- she shot him in the knee so he couldn’t run and she buried a crowbar in his skull while he begged for his life.” He watched Hudson’s eyes as he spoke. “So Joseph was angry. He wanted to call her back immediately. I said no, because she was injured, and she had just gotten _you_ back. Dragged it out as long as I could.”

“How fucking kind of you,” Hudson mumbled.

He ignored her. “Briggs. I tried to recreate what I had done with Rook, but I didn’t have enough time.” _You ruined it,_ he was implying, but he didn’t say it. ”I tried to make her an out with Briggs so I wouldn’t have to use her, but that didn’t happen. It didn’t catch on as quickly, and he didn’t give up in time. So it was back to the old plan. Eventually Joseph got impatient, so she was called back.” He sat back, finished. “Now you’re caught up.”

“So why didn’t Dep kill you?” Sharky asked.

The anger of the old Jacob Seed seemed to dissipate when he said that. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly. Sharky was staring at him, and to Hudson’s surprise, Jacob’s face seemed to go a shade paler, his eyes narrowing as he retreated. “I don’t know,” he said again. “She should have because I ordered her to, and she should have because she wanted to. I-“ He looked down, and his hands unclenched. “I’m sorry that she didn’t. It would have been easier if she did.”

* * *

Jacob walled up again, spent the next five minutes letting Hudson try to manifest lasers from her eyes. Eventually Hudson seemed to tire of it and stormed out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind her, the sound causing Jacob’s eye to twitch.

“Well, that is the most pissed off I have ever seen her,” Sharky said, breaking the silence. “You think that’s where Dep gets it from?”

Jacob gave him a look that told him he very much wanted to feed him to wolves. Although that didn’t seem to be his deal anymore. He was playing nice. He probably could have broken out of the jailhouse since the moment they’d brought him in, he could’ve winter soldiered Rook again. He could have said nothing.

“Your taste of music is alright,” Sharky said. “Could be better. Your oldies are a little too oldie for me, much more of a bell bottoms and sequins guy myself.” Jacob picked at the scars on his hands. Dude had a lot of scars. Rook was going to catching up soon, though. “Why’d you pick that song, anyway? The only you one. It’s creepy, kinda.”

He shrugged. His voice was still hard, but softening. “Just what we had on hand. No more cell towers goes both ways.”

Sharky smiled. This was the trick at brick wall people, like Rook and him. You just keep chippin’ away, and eventually you find something. “You ever make any of those wolves pets instead of judges? Like, democratize them?”

Jacob looked like he wanted to strangle him.

“Your sister single?” Sharky asked, leaning back in his chair, giving Jacob his best shit-eating grin.

Jacob put his head down on the table. “What is your point here?”

“If you keep talking to me now that Hudson isn’t gone and trying to melt you with her brain, I’ll put you back in your cell and let you marinate in silence, buddy. For the low price of a couple more As to my Qs, I’ll stop.”

He sat up again, looking drained. “What else do you want?”

“Well, you’re AARP- shit, wait- you’re AWOL now and your family probably thinks you’re dead, so what do you wanna do now?”

Jacob stared at him. “Go back to my cell and not talk to you.”

Sharky made a fart noise with his mouth. “Wrong answer, boyo.”

He closed his eyes and huffed. “I don’t really have a choice in the matter, do I?” He spread his hands from where they were handcuffed, exasperated. “I’m at your mercy.”

The walls were high, the walls were thick. No thanks to Hudson. Sharky had guessed this whole thing was going to be very good-cop-bad-cop, but not so much bad-cop-tries-to-verbally-murder-the-guy-who-kidnapped-her-lost-opportunity-potential-girlfriend. It could still work out though. He didn’t know how much Jacob knew about Rook and Hudson and whatever it was they had going on or once had going on, but since she was out of the room, he might let loose a little.

“Why was the Grandview empty?” Jacob was silent. “I’ve been there before, when Eli stormed it the first time. You didn’t pick up after yourself none, let us see everything. From what Eli said, that was standard operating procedure for you, and I was like, ‘damn bitch? You live like this?’ But when we went to go get Briggs, the place was cleaned out. Well, not the stains, but yeah.”

Jacob stared at the wall, chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Dep’s alright,” Sharky added softly. “Sleeping it off, but she’s okay.”

Jacob had a good poker face, but Sharky recognized relief when he saw it. That was where he broke. Jacob bit his lip and nodded, and Sharky waited. The brick wall people usually needed time to get their brains together, unscramble their thoughts.

“Fuck it,” he said finally. “It was getting harder.” He glanced at Sharky and saw him waiting. ”I wasn’t… always like this. I mean, I was a little hellion when I was a kid, but violence changes you… closer you get to it, the more constant it gets, you just get used to it. Make a career out of it.” He was picking at his hands again. “Joseph has a way of talking to you and making you think different. Not like the conditioning, but like… “ He cleared his throat. “He shows you the world in a different way, in a way that makes more sense to you. Rose tinted glasses, and all that, but in a way that you know what’s wrong in the world. And everything wrong in the world that happened to _you_ \- he shows you how to fix it, even if... I wanted to fix it. After Rook, I…” He shrugged. “Rose glasses were off.”

“Why didn’t you just like, hijack a plane and go to Tahiti or something? Instead of sticking around here?”

His expression went dark. “Once Jacob has you, you can’t say no to him. I had a job to finish.” His gaze was intense now, determined. “You wanted to know what I want? I want to make sure Joseph doesn’t get his hands on her.”

* * *

Faith was alone.

She surrounded herself in flowers. Flowers were something she liked. Always pretty, even if they were a little imperfect. Always soft, always sweet. Faith was alone with her flowers, and she mourned her brother.

Jacob had _lied._ He said he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He lied, and now he was gone, just like John. The leaders of his Chosen had come to her, looking for guidance. She welcomed them onto the Path, just like the rest of them, and she kept her smile as she set them on their way. And that was how she found out that he was gone, and she was the last of them.

She coughed, feeling the tears and snot on her face. She wanted it to go away. She wanted the feeling to go away, she wanted to feel the Bliss, but she couldn’t. She was _Faith_ , and the Bliss wasn’t for her. She needed to stay pure. Perfect. Happy.

But the _Deputy._

She wondered what it had been like. How _dare_ the Deputy do that to her brother. Could the Deputy not see it, like Faith could? It was obvious. The Deputy had belonged with him, and she _betrayed_ him. He was always so brave, and stoic, but he must have been so scared. She was scared to think of what the Deputy did to him, because the image that was before her was John in his coffin, the darkness of his head ruining the white satin. Faith closed her eyes tight, feeling another wave of tears trickle down her cheeks. The Deputy didn’t even leave his body behind, he was _stolen._ There was nothing Faith could see, nothing she could mourn.

Joseph had visited her, embraced her. Looked over the empty casket at the front of the chapel with her. They only had each other, now. Even if Joseph _did_ appoint some to take charge of John’s and Jacob’s remnants, they weren’t _family._ It was only them, and it was the Deputy’s fault.

She couldn’t have wanted to do it, right? Jacob was the one she liked best. The Deputy _belonged_ with him, and she could almost picture tears in her eyes as she raised her crowbar. There had to be some part of her that knew what she was doing was wrong. She didn’t understand that this wasn’t the Path, that she was playing for the wrong team. She needed to _see,_ that she was the one being manipulated all along.

“All the more reason that she needs to be saved,” Joseph whispered in her ear, stroking her hair. “Help me save her, my Faith. Our brothers are still with us. They live on in Eden, and they’re watching over us.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “My Faith. The best of them is in you. Be my Soldier, my Baptist, my Siren. Be my Faith, and bring the Deputy to the Path.”

Faith wiped her eyes. The Deputy needed her, that was it. Faith was her last chance, right? Her last chance to see that she was wrong, that she could be happy. Faith had learned from John, from Jacob. She had watched, she had listened. It was what Jacob would have wanted, was for her to be happy. She could be part of this family. She would.

Faith just needed to _find_ her. Find her, and then show her the Path. Yes. She could do that. She could do that, for her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because no one asked, part 3:   
> Hudson: You Worry Me- Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats /// Is There Something in the Movies?- Samia /// Can You Tell- Ra Ra Riot /// Run- Daughter /// Shiver- Lucy Rose /// Monsoon- Hippo Campus /// Let’s Be Happy- Fire Chief Charlie  
> (Cursed addition: Girls- Beatie Boys)


	14. i can bring your fears to life

Rook dreamed of dancing. She dreamed that someone was twirled her slowly, held her close. Their hands were cold. When Rook looked up she saw Hudson looking down at her with frozen shock, a tickle of blood from the red hole in her forehead. She pushed away in horror, wrenching out of stiff arms, but when she turned there was Jacob instead, with an identical red spot and a smile on his face.

The sidearm was warm in her hand.

She didn’t wake with a start. She was getting used to it, at this point.

Something was itchy at her wrist, and her eyes trailed from the tubes at her arm to the IV bag hanging on a hook. Hmmm. She blinked, feeling her head swim a little. Painkillers, covering something. She shifted in the cot, the wound in her chest waking up as well, sending a deep, hot pain down her side, across her ribs. She didn’t have a shirt, except for the bandages wrapped all around her torso- the uncomfortable tightness was familiar, as was the ache when she breathed- that branched up to cover her right shoulder, to help hold a mat of gauze in place.

“Sorry to be the one to break the news, but you’ve been in a coma for five years, Rook.”

Hudson gave her a tired smile, her legs propped up on the bed as she sat beside her. Rook returned the smile the best she could, though it probably looked more like a grimace. _Felt_ more like grimace. She tried to say something, but her throat was so dry all that came out was a cough, which hurt. Hudson handed her a water bottle, helped her sit up. It hurt to drink at first, the way it did when your throat was entirely dry and foreign to the very idea of moisture.

“Where are we?” Rook asked groggily.

“Hope County Jail, five years in the future.”

Rook gestured warily to the IV bag.

“Nutrients, fluids, the works. Painkillers.” Hudson made a face. “You got _shot,_ in case you don’t remember.”

Rook laid back down. “I don’t want the drugs.”

“You’re gonna have a _little_ bit of drugs, Rook. Don’t be an idiot. _You got shot._ ”

Rook sighed. ”How many days has it been?”

“Six, you little lazybones.”

Rook remembered, and her heart sank. “Eli?”

“Dead.”

It was real. She’d known that, but a small part of her still hoped it was all a dream. It would be par for the course, since her dreams were fucked up anyway. “Staci?”

“At the Wolf’s Den. How’d you know?”

 _Jacob told me._ Rook didn’t say that, just shrugged. “Sharky?”

“Waiting for you to wake up with a stack of VHS tapes. Did you know he robbed a Blockbuster?”

There was one more name, and Rook didn’t want to say it, because that would make everything even _more_ real, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. But it was killing her. “Jacob?”

Rooks eyes were closed, but she could imagine Hudson’s face falling. “Alive.” Her tone was cold, and it was clear that Hudson knew more than Rook had ever planned on her knowing, had ever wanted her to know. “In a cell.”

Rook nodded, trying to keep her face still, even as a wave of relief washed over her. He was alive. _He was alive_ , and Hudson couldn’t know how relieved she was. And it was fucked up for her to be relieved, because it all circled back to the fact that it was Jacob Seed, it had been _Jacob Seed_ all along.

Something dawned on Rook then, and her stomach dropped. “I can’t go back to the Wolf’s Den. Tammy’s going to kill me.”

“What Tammy doesn’t know will keep you from kiddie pool swimmin’.” Rook peeked an eye open, and Hudson was glaring in the direction of the cells. “We’re keeping it hush-hush. Right now, he’s either dead or missing, and you’re the one that did it.” Then she mumbled, the animosity hidden, but not hidden enough, “but you didn’t.”

 _Fuck._ Rook closed her eyes again. “I didn’t.” She laid there for a few minutes while Hudson was silent. She should say something. But she couldn’t think, her mind whirring around nothing.

“He talked,” Hudson said quietly.

Rook wished she was unconscious. _Fuck._ She forgot how messed up things were going to be now, felt panic slowly growing. She folded her arms over her head, ignoring the spasm of pain coming from her right. _He talked._ That could mean anything, and anything he said was going to sound so royally fucked up to anyone else. She could throw out anyone here trusting her ever again, could throw out the possibility that they thought of her as reasonably well-adjusted in any capacity (to be fair, she probably wasn’t)-

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hudson’s voice was harder than Rook was expecting, and it proved she was right.

Rook half-laughed, half-choked. _Tell her what?_ Rook still didn’t know what she knew. The tape? The frequency? The fact that she felt more like Jacob than anyone else in this fucking county? “What on earth would come from me telling anyone?”

“Its _Jacob fucking Seed-_ I could’ve _helped_ you- “

It was more of a laugh now, but sharper. Rook didn’t mean it (maybe a part of her did). “Helped me with what? Not becoming like him?”

Hudson matched the laugh. “What the hell does that even _mean?”_

That the blood didn’t affect her anymore. That she didn’t feel bad about it, that she got bored when she wasn’t doing it, and now the one _fucking_ time she tried to fight that feeling everyone was now fucking pissed at her. But if Rook said that, she would see the same horror on Hudson’s face as in the bunker, after she’d killed Eli. The same horror as in the woods, in between lyrics when Rook’s arrow was set to enter Hudson’s chest between her ribs. And pity. That would be the worst.

“Rook.” Hudson was touching her leg, lightly. Rook didn’t want to be touched. It was making her skin crawl. She fucked up, she fucked up _really fucking_ bad, made a giant knot in everything. And there was no way Rook could explain it to Hudson without making everything worse. The panic was making a lump in her throat, and Rook felt her hands squeeze into fists, fingertips pressing as hard into her palms as they could go. “Rook, I’m sorry I- I just need to _understand-”_

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Rook stayed silent, pressed the back of her arms against her face until spots danced across her eyelids. At some point Hudson moved her hand away. Maybe she left, maybe she stayed there, silently, while Rook tried to put her thoughts back together. Rook couldn’t tell which one hurt more, that Hudson would leave from all the mess she’d caused, or if she’d stay despite it (and why should that hurt? It shouldn’t hurt, right?). Eventually, Rook slipped into sleep, and this time she didn’t dream.

* * *

“Rook, stop pretending to be asleep.” Sharky’s voice brought her back up. It felt like two minutes had passed, but the sunlight through the tiny jailhouse windows was a deep orange now.

Rook winced. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, because she just proved to Hudson she was a fucking mess. Now number two on her list of people she really couldn’t bear to confront was here, breezing in with the sensation of fletching against her cheek. “I wasn’t. You woke me up.”

Something light and plastic bounced against her head.

“Eat up, you weird little skeleton person,” Sharky said. “Apparently you were starving or something.”

She reached out- her IV line was gone, a little bandage in place now (was she really _that_ out? Jesus, she had to be awake for at least _some_ of her life), found the bag of Takis.

“You know there was a whole box of these they didn’t open in the storage closet? Police brutality is what it is.” She heard crunching. He talked with his mouth full. His foot kicked at the leg of his chair. “You know Jacob doesn’t like Takis? Fucking psychopath.”

Her stomach grumbled, and she felt herself tearing up. Fucking Takis. She tried to push herself up to sitting, but in the act she moved her right arm weird, sending another throb of pain through her. It seemed Hudson did lower the painkillers after all, which helped get rid of the sickening, familiar fog over her head at least. Still hurt like a bitch, though.

“I’m not going to help you up, I’m injured myself.” He laughed to himself. His tone was light. “Wonder whose fault that is…”

“Sharky-“

“All best buddies shoot each other at some point, Dep, it’s only natural. Here, gimme that back-“ he took the Takis back, and there was a pop as he opened them for her. “Although this one was the first one that actually hit me. I’m gonna have a sick scar now, so if I’m ever like, in a scene like the one in _Jaws_ I’ll have a cool story. ‘My good vigilante buddy went rabid and Legolassed me, cool, right?’” The transition from Hudson to Sharky was hitting her like whiplash. “And don’t worry, I know you were in Bucky mode, you didn’t really mean it.”

“… like the badger?” Sluggishly, she took the Takis back from him, popped one. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted. No way she wasn’t going to feel sick after this, though.

“Ah shit, there’s no way that movie is on VHS…” Sharky mumbled under his breath. “Never mind. Don’t even trip, Dep, honestly I think you should start lifting more, because it wasn’t even that bad-“ She threw a Taki at him. “Ah shit, Dep, don’t waste it-“

“You’re not mad?” Rook asked, hoping the dread inside her wasn’t translating onto her face.

“About what?” Sharky asked, his mouth full. He was talking fast, faster than he usually did. “About the arrow, nah. More worried about everything that went down between you and good ol’ Jakey, same as everyone else, but if you won’t want me to be worried, I won’t.”

“That would be cool,” Rook said quietly.

“Alright, you got it. From now on, any decision you’ve made up until this point has been completely solid. That’s a Sharky promise. Far as I’m concerned now, you’re the only sane person around here.” Rook felt herself start to smile, and she couldn’t stop herself, because it was like someone was finally giving her a break from doubting everything she’d ever done. Which definitely wasn’t how she _should_ be feeling, so she shoved about eight Takis in her mouth.

And immediately choked when Sharky asked, “You wanna go talk to him?”

It came out of nowhere. Rook laid coughing, her chest burning from her bullet wound and also from the spicy bits that she definitely inhaled.

“I really can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no,” Sharky said, nonplussed, his feet up at the edge of her bed. “We really bonded, I think, even though I’m pretty sure he wants to kill me-“

“Hudson would kill me.”

“Well, Hudson’s not the one on Jacob Seed duty, that’s the Sheriff, and Hudson’s out, and the Sheriff’s game.” Sharky licked the powder off his fingers, wiped them on his pants. “Interrogation room and chill?” He grinned at her. “There _will_ be handcuffs involved.”

She choked again. “What-“ He’d dragged her up before she even had a chance to fully respond, wrapping her in a blanket to cover the bandages. She was wearing an old pair of sweatpants that she didn’t notice earlier, sporting a logo for the local baseball team. “Wait, like- like right _now?”_

“Well, Hudson stepped out to blow something up or something, and she’s super pissed at Jakey, so we are capsizing on this opportunity.”

He pushed her toward the interrogation room, where Earl was standing outside the door. Rook felt a rush- it was _Earl_ and sure, she’d seen him before the wolf calls played the Platters, but it was _Earl_ and he was _here._ All the sourceless fight she had when she’d talked to Hudson had been dissolved by Sharky in a matter of minutes, and now here she was, a human puddle. He enveloped her in a gentle hug, and she wanted to cry.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he said, his breath tickling at her hair. The kind of hug where you felt safe _._ “We’re gonna make this alright, okay?” Rook found herself nodding into his jacket. “I know Hud’s angry, but we’re gonna sort it out. I’m sorry it’s all been on you for so long, but we’re gonna figure it out.”

“I missed you, Earl,” Rook said, trying to disguise the crack in her voice.

“I know, kiddo. I’m gonna go get Jacob, is that alright?”

She paused, looking up at Earl’s face, not because it wasn’t alright, but because she _wanted_ to talk to him, and that didn’t make sense, it still didn’t make sense.

Earl looked at her, his face kind and serious. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you want to talk to him, Rook?”

She nodded, and Earl ruffled her hair, brought her in for another hug. The kind of hug that calmed her, grounded her. When he let go, to go get Jacob, Sharky led her by the arm to a chair in the interrogation room. He handed her the bag of Takis, made sure her blanket was comfy cozy.

“You start getting weirded out, you just say the word, okay? Earl’s gonna be at the door, and I’ll be making sure Hudson doesn’t crash the party. Again, sorry that we’re rushing this-” Sharky waved his hands about, gesturing at the table and chairs. “Reunion? I don’t know.” He sat on top of the table, eyes toward the door. “But Hudson and Jess were against it, so we’re gonna just truck on while they’re out.” He stared off, contemplating. “Yeah, they’re gonna beat me up later.”

Rook found herself nodding again, still feeling like she was waking up. There was a pang in her chest, because she had forgotten about _Jess_ , and everything that she’d been through because of Jacob, and how she kept grudges. Kept grudges and let them stew. And she couldn’t bear to think about Hudson. How angry she sounded earlier, how betrayed. Rook pushed it out of her mind, because she was about to talk to Jacob again, and she couldn’t deal with Jess and Hudson and Jacob at the same time or she would implode.

Sharky’s foot was bobbing. “You want water? Anything? I’m not gonna give you more Takis, cause I’m gonna start developing that into currency.” Rook shook her head, and he waited with her, humming ABBA softly to fill the silence. Then he stood up suddenly, and Rook followed his eyes to the door.

Just like that, Jacob was there, his eyes darting between Rook and Sharky. She had never seen him out of his old fatigues. She vaguely remembered him ripping up his jacket to soak up her blood. She wondered if they’d kept it, washed it, threw it out. Now he was in an old flannel, loosely buttoned, and sweatpants that matched hers. He was trying to hide confusion, Rook could tell, so he probably didn’t have any idea that _whatever this was_ was about to happen, either. Earl led him in, hand on his shoulder, looped the cuff chain through the ring at the top of the table.

Part of her thought she would be scared when she saw him. That would have made sense. He had led her, through bullets and blood. His hand guided her, forced her to do things she didn’t remember, didn’t want to remember, and remembered far too well. And she wasn’t stupid. She knew what he had done, to Jess, to Eli and Tammy and Wheaty, to people all over the mountains. There was no erasing that, no ignoring it. But she saw him, in his flannel and sweatpants, and she just saw a man who had been through too much, a man who had wanted to die, a man that probably deserved to die. And parts of her were there too, little bits of mirror, a piece here, a piece there. What a pair they were.

“You pull any shit, I swear to god,” Earl said in his ear, but Jacob wasn’t paying attention, he was just staring at _her_ with those cold blue eyes of his. “I’m warning you, son.”

And then Earl and Sharky were gone, and they were alone. Or as alone as they could be. Rook could hear low voices muttering outside the door, clocked the security camera in the corner. She pulled the blanket around her tighter, like it was the covers on her childhood bed protecting her from the monsters.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, looking anywhere but each other. Not awkwardly. It felt more… necessary. It was a silence where they were both supposed to be there, both allowed to be there. There wasn’t any blood, or smoke, or danger. No one was forcing them. He wasn’t trying to make her to do anything, she wasn’t trying to simply survive. No, they were both there because they wanted to be.

He was the one that broke the silence.

“You alright?”

Rook shrugged. Let her eyes flicker up, meeting his. She held the bag of Takis like a lifeline, even though she probably crushed most of them into powder. “I think I overslept. You?”

“Well, I got shot.” There was a tiny twist at the corner of his mouth.

“Same.” Rook watched his hands fiddle with the chain on the handcuffs. Steady, calloused hands. A calm before a storm, a soft touch before the bite. “Was there dancing?”

He looked at her, too quickly. “What?”

“Nothing.” She had thought it hadn’t happened, thought it was some kind of fever dream overlaid onto reality. But there was something true there. She gestured her chip bag toward him. “Taki?” His nose wrinkled, and Rook felt herself smirk. Rook popped one in her mouth. “What did you tell them?”

“Everything. Visit to the Grandview, secret tape player.” He looked at her pointedly, his face impassive. “They’ve got all of it.” _Not the frequency._ He raised his eyebrows an almost imperceptible amount, acknowledging her. “Joseph found out somehow. He would’ve taunted your friends about it, made them doubt you. Now they can figure how to work this on their own terms.”

“I could have told them, not you.”

He tilted his head. “You wouldn’t have.”

A flicker of annoyance pinged in her head. But he was right. She would’ve kept everyone in the dark if she’d had her way, for better or for worse.

“Making friends?” Rook asked, raising an eyebrow.

He answered with a light scoff. “Your friend Jess Black tried to kill me, twice.”

Rook shivered. (Jess. What could Rook do? There was nothing she could say to her, nothing that could tell her why she let Jacob live, because Rook hardly knew herself.) “Anger can be her primary emotion.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind next time I try to make someone kill me.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Relax, Rook, I’m not going to do that.”

“You sticking around then?” Rook felt herself freeze as she said it, a thought that was supposed to come out.

She had hardly known Jacob to be a soft man. She had known him to be cruel, to be indifferent, to be cunning, to be desperate. But he was looking at her in a way where his blue eyes didn’t pierce, didn’t dissect. Rook felt her face getting warm, and his face nearly began to match his hair before he looked away, clearing his throat. “It’s not exactly my choice anymore. As long as Deputy Hudson doesn’t succeed where Black failed, I… suppose so.”

 _Hudson._ Rook’s stomach twisted, felt herself getting cold. Jess, and Hudson. She had screwed everything up. “Was she there when you told them everything?”

He winced. “Yeah.” He traced the lines in the wall with his eyes. “That one feels more... sorry if I messed things up, I’m…” His voice trailed off. He looked back at her, smiled weakly. “I’m not always the best with people.”

“Neither am I,” Rook mumbled, remembering Hudson removing her hand. “I mean, look at who I’m keeping company with.”

A brief smirk, but it faded. “You think she’ll come around?” His expressions were usually hard to read, with the surface layer probably a shield or a false front to what he was really thinking. He lied the same way she did. But it didn’t always extend to his eyes, and now he seemed concerned.

Rook shrugged. “I… I don’t know. Come around to you? Probably not. To me? I…” Rook picked at her knuckles, only just realizing the old scabs on them, almost healed, the bruising that had faded to yellow. She didn’t remember those. “I don’t know. I hope so. I mean, I don’t know what _I_ would be doing if our spots were switched, so…” Rook paused, thinking. “Well, for one, Hudson definitely would have killed you, so I wouldn’t even have to think about it.” The question was there again, and Jacob didn’t need to ask it. _Why didn’t_ you, _then?_ “As much as she thinks she has, Hudson hasn’t changed. She’s always been stubborn. Frustrating. She’s not afraid to set things right when they need to.”

“And you’re not?”

Rook picked at a scab. “I think I’m too squishy. Things sink in. I can’t get them out. I…” She wrapped her blanket around herself more, trying to make it tight, trying to make it keep her together. “I don’t like being upside down. I don’t like being in the passenger seat when we’re going over a bridge.” The things had started piling up, hadn’t they? “I’m scared of painkillers, because they remind me too much of Bliss. I still dream about John, and I keep hearing him blame me, like he’s haunting me. I hate putting my head underwater. I like the way swinging a crowbar feels.” She felt Jacob watching her, but it didn’t make her nervous. What did it say about her, that she was uncomfortable around everyone else, but not him, not someone that did the things he had? “I get anxious whenever I hear oldies, but I hear them whenever I’m scared, or when I’m about to…to… I get bored too easily, and its all I can think about, all I want to do. And I shouldn’t want it. No sane person would want it.” Rook looked up, trailing off. “I… don’t think it’s like that for Hudson.”

Jacob was entirely still, listening. His brow furrowed, and he looked away, starting to scratch at his hands again, toward the mottled scar at his forearm. “Yeah…” He was suddenly far away. His mind brought him places, just as hers did, places where memories blurred together in a hellish haze. And she knew, with complete certainty, that while it wasn’t like that for Hudson, it was like that for him. Or it had been, a long time ago.

“Did you think you were doing the right thing?”

He blinked back into focus. “At the beginning, yeah.” And then his focus was on her, his gaze intense. “Rook, don’t think you’re not doing the right thing, because you are. What Joseph wants is for you to doubt yourself, and he’s wrong. You’re doing what needs to be done, as awful as it is.”

Rook nodded absently, and it was getting to be too much, so she shifted. “You best buddies with Sharky now?”

Jacob didn’t respond for a moment and Rook knew he was analyzing, like he was reading her mind. In a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, in a way that she wished Hudson could. But he stepped away as well, he didn’t push. He knew she needed a break, and he probably did as well. “For starters, it’s a dumbass name,” he said finally. “Does he ever shut up?”

Rook let herself smirk. “No. It’s one of his best qualities.”

Jacob chuckled, the air getting lighter. “I want to strangle him, but he’s so goddamn likable.”


End file.
